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i) of Eea, co. 

THE reign of EDWARD III. forms the most martial and chivalrous period of 
English history. On the roll of the military " worthies " it produced 
and the brilliant category includes Edward the Black Prince, Audley, 
Chandos, and Manny few names stand more prominently forward than 
that of Sir HUGH CALVELEY of Lea. Froissart's romantic pen comme- 
morates with graphic force the achievements of the Cheshire knight, and it 
is indeed observable that the old chronicler rarely touches on Sir Hugh with- 
out placing him in the very foreground of his living pictures. The family 
from which this renowned warrior sprang, was a branch of the ancient 
House of Calvelegh of Calvelegh, in the Hundred of Edisbury, which is 
traced to Hugh de Calvelegh, who became Lord of Calvelegh in the reign 
of King John by grant from Richard de Vernon. The first Calveley of 
Lea was 

DAVID DE CALVELEGH, (2nd son of Kenric de Calvelegh of Calvelegh,) 
who obtained a grant, temp. Edward III., of the lordship of Lea, in the 
Hundred of Broxton, Cheshire, previously a part of the extensive posses- 
sions of the Montalts and the Montacutes. He married twice : by his 
fi r st wife Johanna he appears to have had four sons ; the eldest of whom, 

SIR HUGH CALVKLEY, succeeded to Lea, and was the celebrated soldier, 
whose achievements have rendered the name so familiar to the historic 
reader. He first appears in the public events of his time as one of the 
thirty combatants who, in 1351, engaged, in mortal strife, an equal number of 
Bretons, for the purpose of deciding some differences which had arisen out 
of the disorders committed by the English after the death of Sir Thomas 
Daggeworth. The Bretons gained the victory by one of their party 
breaking on horseback the ranks of the English, the greater number of 
whom fell in the engagement. Knolles, Calveley and Croquart were cap- 
tured and carried to the castle of Josselin. The Lord of Tinteniac, on 
the enemy's side, and the gallant Croquart, on the English, obtained the 
prizes of valour. Such was the issue of the famous " Combat of Thirty." 
A cross, still existing, marks the battle field, known to this day as " Le 
champ des Anglois." In a few years after, Sir Hugh commanded a divi- 

VOL. iv. NO. xv. B 


sion of the English forces at the battle of Auray, to which Froissart refers 
in the following interesting narrative. 

" Sir John Chandos formed three battalions and a rear guard. He 
placed over the first Sir Robert Knolles, Sir Walter Huet, and Sir Richard 
Burley. The second battalion was under the command of Sir Oliver de 
Clisson, Sir Eustace D'Ambreticourt and Sir Matthew Gournay. The Earl 
of Montfort had the third, which was to remain near his person. There 
were in each battalion five hundred men-at-arms and four hundred archers. 
When he came to the rear- guard, he called Sir Hugh Calveley to him, and 
said, ' Sir Hugh, you will take the command of the rear- guard of five- 
hundred men, and keep on our wing, without moving one step, whatever 
may happen, unless you shall see an absolute necessity for it ; such as our 
battalions giving way, or by accident broken j in that case, you will hasten 
to succour those who are giving way, or who may be in disorder ; and 
assure yourself, you cannot this day do a more meritorious service.' 
When Sir Hugh heard Sir John Chandos give him these orders, he was 
much hurt and angry with him, and said, ' Sir John, Sir John, give the 
command of this rear-guard to some other; for I do not wish to be 
troubled with it ;' and, then, added, * Sir knight, for what manner of 
reason have you thus provided for me ? and why am I not as fit and proper 
to take my post in the front rank as others?' Sir John discreetly answered, 
' Sir Hugh, I did not place you with the rear- guard because you were not 
as good a knight as any of us ; for, in truth, I know that you are equally 
valiant with the best ; but I order you to that post, because I know you are 
both bold and prudent, and that it is absolutely necessary for you or me 
to take that command. I therefore most earnestly entreat it of you ; for, 
if you will do so, we shall all be the better for it ; and you, yourself, will 
acquire great honour ; in addition, I promise to comply with the first re- 
quest you may make me.' Notwithstanding this handsome speech of Sir 
John Chandos, Sir Hugh refused to comply, considering it as a great 
affront offered him, and entreated, through the love of God, with uplifted 
hands, that he would send some other to that command ; for, in fact, he was 
anxious to enter the battle with the first. This conduct nearly brought 
ears to the eyes of Sir John. He again addressed him, gently saying ; 
tSr Hugh, it is absolutely necessary that either you or I take this com- 
mand; now, consider which can be most spared.' Sir Hugh, having con- 
sidered this last speech, was much confused, and replied ; ' Certainly, Sir, 
I know full well that you would ask nothing from me, which could turn 
out to my dishonour ; and, since it is so, I will very cheerfully undertake 
it.' Sir Hugh Calveley then took the command called the rear- guard, 
entered the field on the wing of the others, and formed his line. It was on 
Saturday the 8th of October, J364, that these battalions were drawn up 
facing each other, in a handsome plain, near to Auray in Brittany. I must 
say, it was a fine thing to see and reflect on ; for there were banners and 
pennons flying with the richest armour on each side ; the French were so 
handsomely and grandly drawn up, it was great pleasure to look at them." 
Froissart proceeds to narrate the vain efforts made by the Lord 
de Beaumonor to bring about a treaty of peace, and then eloquently de- 
scribes the result. " Sir John Chandos returned to the Earl of Montfort, 
who asked, ' How goes on the treaty ? What does our adversary say ?' 
* What does he say !' replied Chandos ; ' why he sends word by the 
Lord de Beaumanoir, who has this instant left me, that he will fight with 
you at all events, and remain Duke of Brittany, or die in the field.' This 


answer was made by Sir John in order to excite the courage of the Earl 
of Montfort ; and, he continued saying, ' Now, consider what you will 
determine to do, whether to engage or not.' ' By St. George/ answered 
Montfort, ' engage will I, and God assist the right cause. Order our 
banners to advance immediately.' '" We need not relate the details, romantic 
though they be, as detailed in the glowing language of the Chronicler ; suffice 
it to add that the post assigned to the knight of Lea proved not inglorious, 
that, in more than one emergency, the failing forces of the English were 
sustained by his reserve, and that among the leaders who contributed in the 
most eminent degree to the famous victory of Auray, no small share of the 
glory may, with justice, be given to Sir Hugh Calveley. 

We next find our hero, not very reputably engaged, as a Captain of the 
Free Companies, composed partly of disbanded soldiers and partly of ban- 
ditti, who had enlisted in the service of Henry of Trastamare against Pedro 
the Cruel. Shortly after, however, the Black Prince having joined the 
army of the King of Castile, Sir Hugh placed himself under the command 
of his old General, the illustrious Chandos, and distinguished himself by 
many feats of valour at the bloody battle of Navarette. 

In 1377, Holinshed relates, " Sir Hugh Calvelie was sent over to Calis, 
to remain upon safe keeping of that town as deputie there ; and in the 
same year comming one morning to Bullongne, he burnt certeine ships, 
which laie there in the haven, to the number of six and twentie, besides two 
proper barks, and having spoiled and burnt the most part of the base towne, 
returned to Calis, with a rich bootie of goods and cattell." The same his- 
torian further informs us that this doughty knight recovered the castle of 
Marke, which had been betrayed by "certeine Picards stipendiarie soldiers 
in the said Castell," and goes on to state that " Sir Hugh slept not at his 
business. Shortly after Christmas, A.D. 1378, he spoiled the town of 
Estaples, the same daie the fair was kept there," and in the next spring, as 
Admiral of England, conveyed the Duke of Britany to a haven near St. 
Maloes, and repelled, with the most dauntless bravery, a sudden attack made 
by the French vessels. In 1380, he encountered the tremendous storm 
which destroyed a large portion of the expedition to Brittany, and was one 
of eight who took to the masts and cables, and were dashed on shore by 
the violence of the storm. 

The crusade of the Bishop of Norwich against the Clementists brings Sir 
Hugh Calveley once more forward, " an opponent of his leader's measures 
in the cabinet, but a vigorous supporter in the field/'* until after a series of 
successes, his troops were surprised in Bergues by the French king, with 
superior numbers, and Sir Hugh, abandoning the contest as hopeless, re- 
turned to Calais. The following is Froissart's interesting description of the 
event : 

" Sir Hugh Calveley, on his arrival at Bergues quartered himself and 
his men in the different hotels and houses of the town ; they were in the 
whole, including archers, more than four thousand men. Sir Hugh said, 
' I am determined to keep this town ; it is of good strength and we are 
enough to defend it. I expect we shall have, in five or six days, reinforce- 
ments from England ; for they will learn our situation and also the force of 
our enemies.' All replied, ' God assist us.' 

Upon this he made very prudent regulations ; on dividing his men under 
pennons and into companies, to mount the walls and guard the gates, he 
found he had numbers sufficient. He ordered all the ladies, women, 

* Ormerod. 

B 2 


children, and lower classes of inhabitants to retire into a church, from 
whence they were not to stir. 

The King of France was at the abbey of Ranombergues, and learnt that 
the English had retreated to Bergues. A council was held on the occasion, 
when it was ordered that the van, with the constables and marshals, should 
advance beyond the town and encamp on one of its sides. And the king of 
France, with the Dukes of Berry, Burgundy and Bourbon, would follow with 
the main army ; that the Count de Blois and the Count d'Eu, with the rear 
division, should lodge themselves on the other side of the town, and thus 
surround the English. 

This plan was executed : and the King set out from Ronombergues, at- 
tended by his whole army. It was a beautiful sight to behold these banners, 
pennons and helmets, glittering in the sun, and such numbers of men at 
arms that the eye could not compass them. They seemed like a moving 
forest, so upright did they hold their lances. Thus they marched in four 
divisions towards Bergues, to enclose the English in that town. 

About eight o'clock in the morning, an English herald entered the town, 
who, by the courtesy of the lords of France, had passed through their army : 
he waited on Sir Hugh Calveley in his hotel, and spoke so loud that every 
one heard him. ' Herald, whence dost thou come?' 'My Lord,' replied 
the herald, ' I come from the French army, where I have seen the finest 
men at arms, and in such vast numbers that there is not at this day another 
King who can shew the like.' 

' And these fine men at arms which thou art speaking of,' saith Sir 
Hugh, ' what number are they ?' 'By my faith, my Lord, they are full 
twenty- six thousand men at arms : handsomer nor better armed were never 

' Ha, ha,' replied Sir Hugh, who was much provoked at the latter part of 
this speech, ' thou art a fine fellow to come and mock us with this pompous 
tale. I know well thou hast lied ; for many a time have I seen the armies 
of France, but they never amounted to twenty-six thousand ; no, not even 
to six thousand men at arms/ 

As he said this, the watch of the town who was at his post, sounded his 
trumpet, for the van of the enemy was about passing near the walls Sir 
Hugh then, addressing the knights and squires present, said ; ' Come, 
come, let us go and see these twenty-six thousand men at arms march by, 
for our watch blows his horn !' They went on ft the walls of the place and 
leaning on them, observed the march of the van, which might have con- 
sisted of about fifteen hundred lances, with the constable, the marshals, the 
master of the cross-bows and the Lord de Courcy. Next came the Duke 
of Brittany, the Earl of Flanders and the Count de St. Pol, who had under 
his command about fifteen hundred lances more. Sir Hugh Calveley, who 
thought he had seen the whole army, said ' Now see if I did not say "truth : 
where are these twenty-six thousand men? Why if they be three thousand 
menat arjns, they are ten thousand. Let us go to dinner, for I do not yet 
see such a force as should oblige us to surrender the town. This herald 
would frighten us well, if we were to believe him.' 

The herald was much ashamed, but he said, ' My Lord, you have as yet 
only seen the van guard. The King and his uncles are behind with the main 
army, and there is besides a rear division, which consists of more than two 
thousand lances. You will see the whole in four hours, if you remain here.' 

Sir Hugh paid not any attention to him but returned to his house, saying 


he had seen every thing, and seated himself at table. He had scarcely done 
so, than the watch again blew his horn, and so loud as if he would burst it ; 
Sir Hugh rose from table, saying he would see what was the cause of this, 
and mounted the battlements. At this moment the King of France marched 
by, attended by his uncles, the Duke Frederick, the Duke of Lorraine, the 
Count of Savoy, the Dauphine of Auvergne, the Count de la Marche, and 
their troops. In this battalion were full sixteen thousand lances. Sir 
Hugh felt himself much disappointed, and said to the herald who was by 
his side, ' I have been in the wrong to blame you, come, come, let us mount 
our horses and save ourselves, for it will do us no good to remain here ; I 
no longer know the state of France, I have never seen such numbers col- 
lected together by three fourths as I now see and have seen in the van 
besides the rear division is still to come. Upon this Sir Hugh Calveley 
left the walls and returned to his house. All the horses being ready saddled 
and loaded, they mounted, and having ordered the gates to be opened which 
lead to Bourbourg, they set off without any noise, carrying with them 
all their pillage. 

Had the French suspected this, they could easily have stopped them, but 
they were ignorant of it for a long time, so that they were nearly arrived at 
Bourbourg before they heard of it. 

Sir Hugh Calveley halted in the plain to wait for his rear and baggage. 
He was very melancholy and said to Sir Thomas Trivet and others who had 
come to meet him ; ' By my faith, gentlemen, we have this time made a 
most shameful expedition : never was so pitiful or wretched a one made 
from England. You would have your wills, and placed your confidence in 
the Bishop of Norwich, who wanted to fly before he had wings; now see the 
honourable end you have brought it to. There is Bourbourg ] If you 
choose it, retire thither ; but for my part I shall march to Gravelines and 
Calais, because I find we are not of sufficient strength to cope with the King 
of France.' 

The English knights, conscious they had been to blame in several things, 
replied : ' God help us ! we shall return to Bourbourg and wait the event, 
such as God may please to ordain.' Sir Hugh on this left them, and they 
threw themselves into Bourbourg." 

None of the blame attending this misadventure fell on Sir Hugh, and he 
retained to the time of his decease the government of Guernsey, and the 
care of the royal castle and the park of Shotwick. Having acquired from 
his estates in Cheshire, his various official appointments, and the fruits of 
his predatory warfare, enormous wealth, he devoted a portion to the estab- 
lishment of an hospital at Rome, and sanctified the end of his days by an 
act of similar piety in his own country the foundation of the college of 
Bunbury in Cheshire which appears to have been completed before the 
decease of its founder, which event occurred on the feast of St. George in 
1394. An armed effigy, reposing on one of the most sumptuous altar 
tombs of which the county of Chester can boast, still remains in the chancel 
of the college of Bunbury, marking the spot where were interred the mortal 
remains of the warrior knight, the gallant Sir Hugh Calveley of Lea. Tra- 
dition assigned to him for bride no less a personage than the Queen of Ar- 
ragon, but recent researches have altogether refuted this popular error. In 
all probability, he never married, and to a certainty, he left no issue. His 
next heir was his grandnephew, 

DAVID DE CALVELEY, eldest son of Sir Hugh Calveley, the younger, and 
grandson of David, the second son of the first David Calvelegh of Lea. 


He held the property for some years, but died without issue, temp. Henry IV., 
and was succeeded by his brother, 

HUGH DE CALVELEY, Esq. of Lea, whose post mortem inquisition bears 
date 11 Hen. VI. By Maud, his wife, dau. and heir of Sir Henry Hubeck 
Knt, of Leicestershire, he left a son and heir, 

SIR HUGH CALVELEY, Knt. of Lea, who married Margaret, dau. of Sir 
John Done, Knt. of Utkinton, and left at his decease (Inq. p.m. 10 HEN. 
VII.) a dau. Eliz. wife of John Eyton of Rhuabon, co. Denbigh, and a son 
and heir, SIR HUGH CALVELEY, Knt. of Lea, whose wife was Christiana, 
dau. and heir of Thomas Cottingham, and whose children, by her, were 
four daus., Alice m. to Richard Clyve of Huxley, Jane m. to Sir John 
Legh of Bagulegh, Dorothy m. to Robert Massey of Coddington, and 
Eleanor, who d. unm., and one son, 

SIR GEORGE CALVELEY of Lea, Knt. He m. Elizabeth, dau. of Sir 
Piers Dutton of Hatton, Knt., and had besides a son and heir, SIR HUGH, 
four other sons and six daus., viz. Peter and George, both d.s.p., John, 
valet of Queen Mary, Anthony d. without lawful issue, Catharine wife of John 
Beeston, Esq. of Beeston, Elizabeth wife of Richard Gerard of Crewood, 
Eleanor, wife of John Davenport of Calveley, Christina wife of Richard 
Hough of Leighton, Joan wife 1st of John Edwards of Chirk, co. Den- 
bigh, and 2nd of Sir Ralph Leycester, Knt., and Dorothy wife 1st of Robert 
Boswek, and 2ndly of Edward Aimer. The eldest son and heir, 

SIR HUGH CALVELEY of Lea, knighted at Leith 1544, m. Eleanor dau. 
and heiress of Ralph Tattershall of Bulkeley, and by her had, besides a dau. 
Eleanor wife of John Dutton Esq. of Dutton, three sons I. Sir George 
Calveley, Knt. of Lea, eldest son and heir, m. 1st, Margaret dau. of John 
Moreton of Moreton, and 2ndly, Agnes dau. and heiress of Anthony Browne 
of Wodhull, relict of Richard Chetwode, Esq. and by the latter only had 
issue two sons, George and Hugh, both d. infants. He d. 5th August, 1585. 
II. Hugh d. s.p. -, and III. HUGH. The youngest son and eventual heir to 
his brother, 

HUGH CALVELEY, Esq. of Lea, m. Mary dau. of Sir Ralph Leycester 
of Toft, Knt. and had, besides three daus., Elizabeth, m. Edward Dutton, 
Esq. of Dutton. Eleanor m. Henry, son of Sir Richard Lee of Lea, Knt., 
and Dorothy m. George Bostock of Holt, a son, 

SIR GEORGE CALVELEY of Lea, Knt. Sheriff of Cheshire, 1612, who 
m. 1st Mary dau. of Sir Hugh Cholmondeley, Knt. of Cholmondeley, and 
2nd a dau of Sir W. Jones which lady m. 2ndly Judge Littleton. By his 
first only, Sir George Calveley had issue, viz. Hugh, (Sir) his heir, Richard 
and George both d. s, p., Mary and Dorothy both d. young, Elizabeth m. 
Thomas Cotton, Esq. of Combermere, and Lettice m. Thomas Legh, D.D. 
third son of Peter Legh of Lyme, Esq. Sir George d. 1 9th January, 1 6 1 9, and 
was succeeded by his eldest son and heir, 

SIR HUGH CALVELEY of Lea, knighted when sheriff of Cheshire in 
1642. Hem. 1st, Lady Elizabeth dau. of Henry Earl of Huntingdon, and 
2ndly, Mary dau. of Sir Gilbert Hoghton, Knt. of Hoghton Tower, co. Lan- 
caster, and by the former only, had issue, a son and heir George Calveley, 
born in 1635, d. young. Sir Hugh d. without surviving issue, 4 April, 
1 648, and thus the male line of this ancient family ended. The estates were 
divided between the families of his sisters, Elizabeth, wife of Thomas Cotton, 
and Lettice wife of Thomas Legh, D.D. In the division of the estates, the 
manor of Lea, with the lands north of the brook, passed to the Cottons, 
those south of the brook to the Leghs of Lyme, The first of these shares 
was sold by the late Sir Robert Salusbury Cotton, Bart,, to Mr. Joseph 
White of London, and the others vested in Thomas Legh, Esq. of 


respecting tfje Hife mitt dfanrito of ^o!)it Jier, tljc 

THE biographies of the amiable and retiring author of Grongar Hill, have 
hitherto been so imperfect, such mere sketches, that the writer deems it 
but a justice to his ancestor, and a matter of some interest to the reading 
public, those who feel that facts throwing a light on the lives of great men, 
be they ever so small, should be placed on record, to give to the world all 
the materials in his power which may prove of service to future writers. 
And in the first place will be given a few notes relating to the poet's 
ancestors. His contemporary relatives, his and their descendants, will ap- 
pear at length at the conclusion of these articles : 

With regard to the origin of the Dyers from whom our author de- 
scended, there seems to be conflicting opinions, not among the printed lives 
of him, but among the family papers themselves. From the papers in the 
hands of the Rev. Thomas Dyer, of Abbess-Roding, in the handwriting of 
the poet's father, Robert Dyer, Esq. of Aberglasney, it is clear that the 
last-named individual claimed descent from the Dyers of Somerset and 
Devon, and has drawn their arms beside his name, viz. or, a chief indented 
gules. Yet he is not uniform or steady in this statement, for in another 
paper, similar in other respects to the others, he states them to be of South 
Wales. These papers are numerous, agreeing tolerably, and systematically 
arranged thus : 

" Non nobis nascimur. 

Or, a chief indented gules quarterly with sable 3 goats passant argent 
(the allusion to arms is in some copies omitted,) by the name of Dyer, 
as in Guillim's Heraldry, are borne by Robert Dyer of Aberglasney, in 
the county of Carmarthen, Gent, descended from the ancient family of 
that name 


/ Somersetshire, 

J the counties of Somersett 

j and Devon, 

I South Wales. 

His grandmother 
was the 

great granddaughter 
daughter of the 
daughter and only 


Robert Ferrars, the bishop of S. David, who was burnt at Carmarthen in 
the reign of Queen Mary, and his mother was descended 
/ Sir William Thomas, formerly of Aberglasneyf 

) the family of Sir Wm. Thomas, formerly of Aberglasney 

He married 

1 j Lhewellin Voythys, formerly of Aberglasney, Esq. 
' the family of Lhewellin Voythys, of Aberglasney. 
Catherine, daughter and coheir of John Cocks, Esq., of Comins, in the 
county of Worcester, by Elizabeth, daughter and sole heir of Edmond 
Bennet, of Mapleton, in the county of Hereford, Gent." 

Cocks beareth " sable, a chevron between 3 attires of a stag fix't to the 
scalp argent." 

He states also that he got seals engraved for himself, wife, and son 
Robert, with the arms of Dyer ; but as I have never seen or heard of 
these seals being in existence I know not what arms he meant. 

* A generation is 'evidently missed out here. W. H. L. 

f " This is a copy y' I left with Mr. Thomas. 

" It is remarkable that'the Dyers became again possessed of the estate of Aberglas- 
ney purchased by'llobert Dyer (married to Miss Cocks as aforesaid) of Sir Rice Rudd 1 
Bart. FRAN. DYER, his grandson." 


" Dyer indeed himself evidently leans to this origin, for in the Fleece 
is the following remarjcable passage. (Book 3.) 

One day arose 

fVio Tirpavincy nrt 

When ALVA'S tyranny the weaving arts 
Drove from the fertile vallies of the Scheld. 
With speedy wing, and scatter'd course, they fled, 
Like a community of bees, disturbed 
By some relentless swain's rapacious hand ; 
While good ELIZA, to the fugitives 
Gave gracious welcome ; as wise ^Egypt erst 
To troubled Nilus, whose nutritious flood 
With annual gratitude enrich'd her meads. 
Then, from fan* Antwerp, an industrious train 
Crossed the smooth channel of our smiling seas ; 
And hi the vales of Cantium, &c. 

Narrating the different places of their settlement, he then goes on to 
specify amongst the others, 

that soft tract 

Of Cambria, deep embay'd, Dimetian land, 
By green hills fenc'd, by oceans murmur lulPd f 
Nurse of the rustic bard, who now resounds 
The fortunes of the fleece ; whose ancestors 
Were fugitives from superstition's rage, 
And erst, from Devon, thither brought the loom j 
Where ivi'd walls of old KIDWELLY'S tow'rs, 
Nodding, still on their gloomy brows project 
Lancastria's arms, emboss'd in mouldering stone. 

Which in the first rough notes of the poem, in my possession, is repre- 
sented thus ; 

Driven by y e D. of Alva, 

nor brought y e Fleece alone 

But various artizans allur'd they came 
With all their instruments of art, their wheels 
And looms and drugs of many a beauteous stain 
5 A pretious 1 . , , 
* Inestimable I Frei & ht ' $ See Gary, p. 70. 

From the letter in the sequel it would appear that this descent from the 
Dyers of Somerset and Devon was derived from one Francis Dyer ; but as 
I think nothing of this descent, for both the Dyers of Wales and Somer- 
setshire date in England anterior to the Duke of Alva, and no proved 
descent from the latter race is given, I pass on to the poet's descent from 
the Dyers of Wales, which I think there can be no doubt is the true one. 

The Dyers of Cardiganshire and Pembrokeshire rank among the most 
ancient lines of Wales, but the pedigrees given of them, show their ex- 
tinction in the main branch in heiresses, and give not the descendants of 
the cadets of the house. Their arms were " Gules, an eagle displayed 
argent, beaked and crined or. And it must primarily be understood that 
the poet uniformly used the coat " Gu. 3 eagles displayed argent," and his 
brother Thomas's descendants bear the same. Upon the whole, this stock 
seems the most likely to derive our poet from, but leaving conjectures, we 
will now proceed to show his immediate ancestors. 


f The following extracts from the pleadings of the Duchy of Lancaster 
(anterior to Elizabeth's time} doubtless belong to our family, though they 
cast little lustre on it. 

23 Hen. 8. Margery, late wife of William Davy, v. David Dyer, Mayor of 

Kydwelly. Charge of aiding and abetting escape of murderer. 
Kydwelly Lordship, Gower Lordship. Wales. 

24 Hen. 8. John Turner & ux. v. Charles Herbert, Howell Dyer, and 

others. Forcible entry and tortious possession of messuage, 
lands and appurtenances, and false imprisonment. Osbaston, 
Monmouth Lordship. Wales. 

3 Edw. 6. James William & ux. v. Morres Dyer and others. Tortious 
possession of messuages, lands, and pasture, and detention of 
title deeds. Kydwelly. Caermarthenshire. 

Then will come conveniently the following letter from Rowland Hickes, 
a relation of the family, which gives a fair account of the Dyers : 

Honoured Cousen, S ber , 1716. 

According to y r request I have made what enquiry I could, and I send it 
to y u if any thinge of this natur will bee searviable to y u I shall be redy to 
searvice, y u will finde inclosed the names of the Aid" and principle Burgesses 
recorded in the charter granted by King James the first, 1618, by which it 
can not bee considared that y u are any wayes descended from Francis Dyer 
y u mentioned to bee in the reigne of Queen Elizabeth, for since y r grand- 
father was borne is above 122, who might be 22 or 23 when the charter 
was had, his father was then bee before her reigne, and abo* the family it 
can not bee denied but that they were very ancient in this towne and respon- 
sible, when five of them was named in 24, especioly att that time when the 
town was both populous and rich, but nothing to what it had bine in former 
times, it is a common tradition that they, the Fishers, Collins, Rows, Ed- 
wards, and others, were hever since the Conquest, but I rather thinke that 
they came with Thomas and Morris de Londres, who got and built this 
castle, as nowe it is (with stone), Morris Dyer was the great granfather of 
Wm. Dyer. Henry Fisher was y r great grandfather, and John Fisher was 
his brother, who was the fifth mayor by this charter. Hugh Dyer was y r 
g* grandfather, D d Dyer was John Dyer, my son in law's grandfather. I 
supose all these Dyers died soon after, for there is noe mention of them 
since, nor could bee except they had bine maiors, for wee have noe records 
but the names of the mairs until Richard Payne was the ninth maior, since 
wee have records that gives account of most materiall things that was acted, 
this far of the Ald n 

John Dyer, who is named amongst the principle Burgesses, was John 
Dyer's grandfather by his mother, and David Dyer was Hugh Dyer y r 
great granfs Brother, named by David Roger Dyer and was the 1 3th maior 
there was a commission sent to S r Gerard Bromley and Thomas Lowley, 
Esq. to enquire to the state of the towne in the fifth year of King James, 
wherein there r severall of the Dyers in that Jury of 24 men. I doubt this 
is rather a trouble to y u than any satisfaction, and forbear any further 
(y r grandfather was the 21st maior) with due respects to y u and all y rs , I 
rest y r ever affectionat vnkle whilst 

Ffor Mr. Robert Dyer att Aber- 
glasney these to be left at the 
Nag's head in Carmarthen. 



by the charter of Kidwelly granted by 
King James y e 1st, anno duo 1618. 

First Mayor 

Thomas Babmgton, Esq. 

First Ald'men 

John Howell, Morris Dyer, Henry Fisher, Master of Arts, 
Hugh Dyer, David Dyer, John Aylward, William Gardener, 
Griffith Bowen, John Fisher, David William, Griffith Row, 
and David King. 

First Bayliffs 

William Gardener and Owen Bowen, Gent. 

First principal Burgesses 

Owen Bowen, John Dyer, David Dyer, John Phillipps, Morris 
Fisher, David Mansell, Walter Rice, William Collinn, Henry 
Jones, Thomas Walter, David Morton, and Morrice Rees. 

First Chamberlain 

Robert Joliffs. First Recorder, Henry Fleetwood. 

To the above letter is appended the following note in Robert Dyer's writing 

Roger Dyer of Kidwelly. Bp. Ferrar. 

Hugh Dyer, made alderman of Kid- dau. married W ms , Wm's 

welly by charter of James I. daughter married Hen. Fisher, ma'r 

Robert Dyer, 21 Maior of y e towne. of Arts, Vicar of Kidwelly. 
Robert Dyer. 1st, Robert married Eleanor, that 

Robert Dyer of Aberg?. Fisher's daughter. 

Rob*. Dyer, 1st (son, I suppose, un- 2nd, Robert married Mary, dau. to 

derstood) David W m8 , of Brinkarod. 

3rd, Robert ma. Catherine, daughter 
to John Cocks, &c. 

and the following endorsement. 

" Letter Mr. Hicks about y e family of y e Dyers in Kidwelly, in a bre 
of y e 14 of y e same month he gives an acco't y't they came there with 
Will'm de Londres ab't y e year 1093, and conquered these p'ts and built 
y e Castle there with stone, and brought y e Welsh to subjection." 

I have already (in the statements of Robert Dyer) introduced the poet's 
ancestors by the marriages of his fathers. The most distinguished one is 
undoubtedly the martyr, Bishop Ferrars, or Farrer, about whom I shall not 
here make any remarks. He has been praised and vindicated by abler 
hands,* and his exact relations seem hid in mystery. It admits of no doubt 

* See Woods's Athen. Oxon. I. 580. Also Thoresby and Whittaker's histories of 
Leeds, sub tit. Halifax and Wortley. 

Some of the articles which he was put to answer in the reign of Edward VI. were to 
the last degree frivolous, &c. ; viz. riding a Scottish pad with a bridle with white studs 
and snaffle, white Scottish stirrups and white spurs ; wearing a hat instead of a cap ; 
whistling to his child; laying the blame of the scarcity of herrings to the covetousness 
of the fishers, who in time of plenty took so many that they destroyed the breeders ; 
and lastly, wishing that at the alteration of the coin, whatever metal it was made of, 
the penny should be in weight worth a penny of the same metal. Granger's Bios' 
Hist. i. 198. 


that he was intimately connected with the Farrers of Ewood, in the" West 
Riding, but their pedigree begins a generation too late for our purpose. 
The Dyers have quartered the arras, argent, six Horseshoes, three, two, 
and one, sable, in right of their having the representation of the Bishop ; 
the Farrers bear Or, on a bend engrailed sable, three horseshoes argent ; 
but every antiquary will recollect the extreme variations in the Ferrars 

With regard to the Bennetts I have their quarterings drawn in the poet's 
own hand, with certain remarks upon them, I here give them entire. 

1. Gules, a bezant between 3 demi-lions rampant, argent. " Bennets 

Bennet of Mapleton, Herefordshire, of y e Arlington family. BI J Benn 1 
was of y e same family." 

2. Argent, on a bend sinister sable, 3 pears or. " Perry s -Pierry of 

Nicholson, near Leominster, Herefordsh. By the Pierrys some of my 
old aunts were used to say we were descended from y e Mortimers by 

a female, and y* of right a share of Wymerley(P) sh d have come 

to them. 

3. Gules, a fess between 3 owls, or. " Webbs, of Gillirigham in Kent. . . . 

Webbs, y e daugh. of Charles Webbs, y e son of John Webbs, who was 
burnt in Q. Mary's days. She was an Heiress, and married D r John 

Bennet, who was to prince Henry he lost the pelf in y e search 

of y e Philosopher's stone." 

4. Or, a fess between 3 lozenges azure. 

5. 6 ermines, 3, 2, and 1. 

6. Argent, a chevron gules between 3 estoiles sable. 

Crest, on a wreath a demi-lion holding between his paws a mound. 


In another shield he quarters the same arms, in conjunction with Cocks, 
Ferrars, Thomas, and Ensor. As to the latter, the Ensor quartering came 
only through his wife, so the coat must have been constructed for his son to 
bear. The Thomas arms are very roughly drawn, but seem to have been a 
plain cross, a sword in pale, point upwards, in the first quarter. It is very 
evident, however, that Williams and Fisher should have been quartered also ; 
and in a rough shield drawn by Robert Dyer, the poet's father, the names 
Fisher and Williams are inserted in the two first quarters, but not the 

The above details are mere notes, but they may be explanatory of circum- 
stances in the sequel, and the writer will feel obliged by communications 
throwing light on the families mentioned above. 

With regard to the Dyers themselves, the pedigree would appear to stand 
thus : 

Bishop Robert Ferrars, Farrars,=p David Dyer, Mayor Howell Dyer, of 

or Farrar, of S. Davids, burnt at I of Kidwelly, 23 Hen. Monmouth Lord- 

Carmarthen, 22 Feb. 1555. 8. ship, 24 Hen. 8. 

Ferrars,=r= Williams. Roger Dyer,=f= Morris Dyer, of Kidwelly 

d. & heiress ) of Kidwelly. Lordship, 3 Edw. 6. 

,-r- - - w imams, jioger JLyer,=f= 
s I of Kidwelly. 

a b 


Wil- = 

J i I 
=Henry John Hugh =p. . . . 
Fisher, Fisher, Dyer, 

David = 

= David =j 

=. . . . Moris = 


dau. and 

M. A. Alder- one of 





Vicar man of the first 


of Kyd- 


ofKyd- Kyd- Alder- 




welly, welly, men of 




Alder- 1618, Kyd- 

welly in 



man'of & 5th welly 



that mayor under 

& 13th 

to John 

place, of that King 
1618. place, James's 

of the 


by his 

under charter. 



King 1618. 





I - 

=P Robert S Rowland Hickes=i 

= Dyer= 

= Dyer Dyer= 


Dyer, calls the 3rd Ro- 

dau. and 

13th bert " Cousen," 


Mayor of & signs " unkle " 

Kidwelly calls John Dyer 

his "son in law." 

See his letter 




1 i 


=Mary Williams, d. of David Wil- 

Hickes ? John Dyer. Dyer=j 


liams, of Brinkavord, by Anne 

Brinkar,* descended from Lhew- 

ellenVoytliys of Aberglasney, and 

also from the family of Sir Wil- 

liam Thomas, of the same place, 


Robert Dyer, of Aberglasney,=pCatherine Cocks, d. & coh. of John Cocks William Dyer 
par. Langarthen, Gent, an I of Com ins, Worcesters. by Elizabeth, d. 
attorney, dead before 1 720, & h. of Edmond Bennet, of Mapleton, 
bought Aberglasney of Sir | Herefords. Gent. Mentioned 1720 as 

Rice Rudd, Baronet. 

having an annuity of 300 out of Aber- ] 
glasney estate. 



of whom more 



Richard Dyer, Esq. was living on an estate called Abersannar, Carmar- 
thenshire, cotemporaneously with the poet, and I have a sketch of an ancient 
cross on that estate drawn by the latter. It is probable, therefore, he was 
of the same family. Vide Archaeological Journal, iii. 357. 

In my next article I shall speak of Dyer himself. 

* This is on the authority of another note in the handwriting of Robert Dyer, which 
agrees in other respects with what has been given before, save that he makes Robert 
the first, the son of John Edward Dyer, the son of Edward Dyer, an improbable state- 
ment ; indeed David Roger's name shows that the true homo prepositus of the family 
was a Roger Dyer. There was an Edward Dyer among the cadets of the Somersetshire 
house, which circumstance perhaps induced the adoption of this unproved pedigree, 
but Hicks in his letter (and he must have been well acquainted with all the Kidwelly 
families) is very explicit as to the Welsh origin. 



GROUCHY, one of the fast-expiring 1 remnants of the Empire, whose death 
was lately announced, though by no means among the first of French 
generals, played too important a part in the latter days of the great 
revolutionary war, to be excluded from a passing notice ; his mysterious 
conduct contributed more perhaps than any other cause to Napoleon's 

The late marshal, the offspring of a noble family, was born at Paris, 
on the 23rd of October, 1766, and his birth qualifying him for rapid 
advancement under the ancient regime, he in his fifteenth year entered the 
artillery, and ere his nineteenth was a captain in the household brigade 
of the king. When the Revolution broke out, however, he embraced its 
principles with zeal, and quickly attained the^ command of a regiment 
of dragoons, with which he took part in the campaign of 1792. For 
his services on this occasion he, towards the end of that year, received 
the command of the cavalry of the army of the Alps, and contributed 
to the conquest of Savoy. Thence he was transferred to La Vendee on 
the outbreak of its celebrated insurrection, and experienced better for- 
tune than most of the French officers who there encountered the rustic 
insurgents. Charette, their leader, was mainly prevented by his exertions 
from taking Nantes, and in almost every encounter with the rebels 
Grouchy came off with equal success, At Sorrinceres in 1793, he es- 
pecially distinguished himself, leaping from his horse on the verge of a 
morass and passing through with his men when his opponents deemed 
their position unassailable, and routing them with disastrous loss. In 
the following year, however, the decree of the Convention excluding 
noble officers from the army, deprived him of his command, and he 
deemed it expedient to avoid the danger which then menaced all mem- 
bers of the aristocracy, by throwing himself as a private into the Na- 
tional Guards. But eight months saw him restored, and with the 
rank of a general of division, he returned to La Vendee. 

The expedition to Quiberon Bay, first introduced him to the notice of 
the English. By a rapid march across the insurgent territory, he unexpec- 
tedly placed himself at Hoche's disposal, and then essentially contributed 
to the issue of that sanguinary struggle. When the great republican 
general was appointed to the command of what was termed the Army 
of the Ocean, destined, it was supposed, for the invasion of England, 
Grouchy in consequence received the appointment of one of its lieuten- 
ants ; but events occurred to alter the original intention of the directory, 
and Grouchy returned to the scene of his former career in La Vendee, 
while Hoche repaired to Ireland. He was, however, quickly summoned 
back, and hastily embarking, despatched to Bantry Bay. But Hoche had 
been prevented by a storm from reaching it, and the expedition consequently 
failed. Grouchy landed in Ireland, but his hesitation, as at Waterloo, 
averted our danger : he quickly re-embarked, and returning to 
Brest, was effectually employed in putting down Charette and Stofflet. 
Impatient of this service, he solicited a command in Napoleon's projected 
expedition to Egypt ; and Desaix being considered to have superior 
claims, the refusal which followed is supposed to have disinclined him to 
the Emperor's cause. While Bonaparte was absent in Egypt, Grouchy 


repaired to Italy, and having been entrusted with a secret mission by the 
directory, so effectually performed his part, that when Joubert came to 
assail the impregnable Sardinian forces, they surrendered without a blow. 
Grouchy, on the abdication of the king, received the command of the 
country in reward, and he left the reputation of having governed it with 
equity. When Moreau was subsequently appointed to restrain the 
career of Suwarrow, Grouchy was appointed one of his lieutenants, and took 
part in the memorable campaign of Piedmont, where twenty-five thou- 
sand French troops were so ably manoeuvred, that for six weeks they 
baffled all the efforts of eighty thousand Austro -Russians. When by an 
unexpected movement part of them at last passed the enemy's flank, the 
battle of Novi followed j but the French, it is well known, were defeated, 
on that occasion : Grouchy, severely wounded, fell into the hands of the 
Russians. The Grand-Duke Constantine received him with distinction j 
placed his purse, surgeon, and domestics at the prisoner's disposal, and 
after a year's captivity, succeeded in obtaining his exchange for that of 
the English general Dow. A division in the army of reserve was imme- 
diately assigned him ; but he had already established intimate relations 
with Moreau, and being entrusted with the command of eighteen thou- 
sand men, took a distinguished share in the memorable campaign of 
Hohenlinden. Ney, however, with Richepanse and Decaen, after Moreau, 
monopolized the glories of that day, and Grouchy was despatched to keep 
in check the Archduke John, which he so effectually managed that when 
the other columns of the French subsequently united, the Austrians were 
overwhelmed, and fifteen thousand prisoners, with one hundred guns, fell 
into the hands of the enemy. 

Peace followed, and Grouchy was placed on the reduced establishment, 
but the turbulent ambition of Napoleon again summoned him and every 
other Frenchman to arms. A grudge, however, seerns to have existed 
between him and the emperor j but still, though unpromoted to what he 
deemed his due rank, Grouchy took a brilliant part in the campaign of 
Jena, and fell so unexpectedly on the Prince of Hohenloe, that sixteen 
thousand men, with sixty-four pieces of artillery, were compelled to lay 
down their arms. At the battle of Lubeck which followed, his troops 
were again successful ; the cavalry under his command defeating Blucher, 
and the town being shortly afterwards surrendered. In the terrible action 
of Friedland his division suffered dreadfully, only twelve hundred out of 
four thousand horse being left unwounded on the plain. His bravery on 
this occasion, when with cavalry alone he opposed the enemy till the 
infantry came up, contributed with the accidental absence of Murat to 
secure him the command of that force at the battle of Eylau, and his 
services were warmly acknowledged by Napoleon, though he still re- 
mained attached to Moreau. 

The peace of Tilsit having terminated this campaign, Grouchy was 
despatched to Spain, and was governor of Madrid when the sanguinary 
insurrection broke out. His conduct on this occasion has been severely 
arraigned, but his friends ullege that he only executed the orders of 
Murat. He even disapproved, it is added, of the Peninsular invasion, 
and was in consequence recalled and despatched to Italy, whither Mac- 
donald had previously been sent for similar sentiments. Grouchy was 
thus enabled to distinguish himself in the passage of the Izonso : but 
on the recurrence of hostilities with Austria he soon passed into Ger- 
many, and bore a conspicuous share in the decisive conflict of Wagram. 


Macdonald, who accompanied him, still more essentially contributed to 
that victory. His terrible advance on that day is one of the most me- 
morable deeds in military annals, and both consequently were re-installed 
in the imperial favour. But Grouchy, on the plea that civic honours 
were inconsistent with a soldier's duties, refused to become a member of 
Napoleon's senate. 

On the projected expedition to Russia, he received the command of 
one of the three corps into which the French cavalry was divided, and 
was the first Frenchman who crossed the Boristhenes. Napoleon was 
still twenty leagues distant, and Grouchy was thus enabled to come first 
into contact with the Russians at Krasnoe. He routed, and compelled 
them to fall back upon Smolensk, where Napoleon next day defeated 
them decisively. The terrific battle of Moscow followed, and the ca- 
valry under Grouchy, by turning a Russian redoubt, ultimately put an 
end to the slaughter of the day. With his son, Grouchy was severely 
wounded ; and he was still suffering at Moscow when Napoleon com- 
menced his memorable retreat. But necessity compelled him to take 
the field, and when a fearful frost struck down almost all the horses of 
the army in a night, he received the command of the "sacred squadron'' 
formed to secure the personal safety of the emperor. By the exertions 
of this devoted band, still more than of its leader, Napoleon was enabled 
to escape the fate of Charles XII. after the battle of Pultawa ; and the 
terrible passage of the Berezino at last interposed shelter between him 
and his fierce pursuers. In the campaign of 1813, Grouchy took no 
part. Having been refused a division of infantry, he retired discontented 
to Calvados ; but after the battle of Leipsic he complied with the im- 
perial commands and again placed himself at the head of the horse. 
He was too feeble to restrain the enemy. The splendid cavalry of France 
was no more, and all the efforts of Grouchy consequently failed to avert 
the passage of the Rhine. Yet they were so great, that Napoleon at 
last bestowed on him the long-coveted marshal's baton. But the 
emperor's power and his honours now alike were passing ; and 1815 saw 
Grouchy in the service of the Bourbons. The injudicious conduct of 
the restored government, however, detached him and many others from 
its cause; and having been superseded in the command of the favourite 
chasseurs by the Duke de Berri, he again joined Napoleon on returning 
from Elba. He was entrusted with the duty of counteracting the Duke 
D'Angouleme, and in a few days so succeeded as to compel him to capi- 
tulate ; but the terms displeased Napoleon, who designed to make the 
duke prisoner and exchange him for Maria Louisa, then detained by her 
father in Italy. Grouchy's conduct was considered so sinister that Cor- 
binau, a devoted adherent of the emperor, was detached as aid-de-camp 
to watch him. But Napoleon could not then stand on trifles nor afford 
to lose the services of so important an arm. Grouchy accordingly was 
continued in command ; and now the ambiguous part of his conduct 
commences. The campaign of 1815 opened with unexpected success 
on the part of Napoleon. The battle of Fleurus, though indecisive, 
was brilliant ; and the attitude assumed by the French was exceedingly 
menacing. On the 17th June, Grouchy was despatched with thirty-four 
thousand men and a hundred guns to pursue or hold in check the Prus- 
sians ; and during the whole of the 18th remained at Wavres. The 
murderous conflict of Waterloo was waging in the interval; and 
Grouchy, though but four leagues distant, rested inactive. He distinctly 
heard the guns ; but the positive orders of the emperor, it is alleged on 


the one hand, fixed him to the spot, while, on the other, it is asserted 
that he was acting in collusion with the enemy; 20,000 have been men- 
tioned as the bribe ; but the friends of the marshal reply that till three 
o'clock in the afternoon the victory on the part of the French was se- 
cure. At that hour, however, two Prussian corps under Bulow, which 
Grouchy had permitted to escape, suddenly cleared the defile of St. Lam- 
bert/ and unexpectedly assailing the French, turned the fortune of the day. 

The issue is known: but Grouchy in his "Observations on the cam- 
paign of 1315," published at Philadelphia, states that he was ignorant 
of Napoleon's disastrous overthrow till next day, and the course he then 
adopted contributes, with his subsequent banishment, to render his con- 
duct more inexplicable. Rallying the remains of the imperial army at 
Laon, he proclaimed Napoleon II Emperor, and proposed to unite with 
Soult in a vigorous effort for the preservation of French indepen- 
dence. From Soult, however, he received information that ill-health 
and Napoleon's abdication prevented him from longer acting either as 
the emperor's major-general or commander of Paris ; and the Provisional 
Government, immediately on Soult's resignation, appointed Grouchy to 
the command of all the corps of the grand army remaining. On re- 
ceiving this intelligence, Grouchy set out for Paris, resolving to approach 
by the left bank of the Oise j but the allies occupied the right bank and 
the intercommuning bridges in such force that he was unable to proceed 
farther than the forest of Compiegne. Finding the enemy ranged 
strongly in possession of the town, he resolved to draw up his force be- 
hind the wood, to cover if possible the route to the capital. A fresh 
order from the Provisional Government, however, to repair by forced 
marches to Paris, induced him to abandon this design; and on his ar- 
rival there he found Davoust invested with the chief command. The 
latter, according to Grouchy, informed him that it was all over with the 
imperial cause, and that nothing remained but to mount the white cock- 
ade of the Bourbons. 

If Grouchy is to be credited, he vehemently opposed this design, and 
repaired to Fouch to remonstrate ; but all he obtained from the un- 
scrupulous minister of police was a recommendation to go and offer 
terms to the allies. From this, the marshal says, he indignantly re- 
volted. He proceeded, instead, to the council then sitting at Villette, 
and advised them either to assail the English or the Prussians ; 
offering his services as a private soldier, if he was not permitted to com- 
mand. But he was either viewed with distrust, or the advice was over- 
ruled. His colleagues pronounced it impracticable ; and in the ordinance 
of the 24th July, which followed, Grouchy's name was amongst the list 
of those who were exiled from France. 

From this period, he lived in retirement ; at first in the United States 
of America, whither he withdrew on his banishment, and latterly at St. 
Etienne, where he died. In 1831 he was placed on the list of Marshals 
by King Louis Philippe. In a memoir of hkn published a few years ago 
when his conduct was vehemently impeached, he is represented to have 
been during twenty-three years intrusted with important commands, to 
have been present in twelve great battles and sixty minor actions, to 
have received nineteen wounds, and after thirty-five years of active ser- 
vice to have found himself of poorer fortune than he received at his 
birth. Such considerations are affecting j but there is a doubt over- 
hanging his memory and outweighing all. 




IN the whole annals of our criminal jurisprudence no trial perhaps 
has excited more lasting interest, and is more generally known, than 
that of the unfortunate Lawrence Shirley, fourth Earl Ferrers. We 
say unfortunate, because there seems little doubt, at the present day, that 
the noble offender committed the deed whilst in a state of insanity. In- 
deed, the very crime itself, and the mode of its accomplishment could 
have scarcely been other than the work of a madman. The evidence 
adduced on the part of his lordship, would certainly now have established 
a case of lunacy sufficient to have saved the murderer from the extreme 
penalty of the law. The rejection of his lordship's plea of insanity may, 
even at the time, have been caused by his examining the witnesses him- 
self with so much apparent sense and skill, and by his own evident dis- 
inclination to rely on such a defence. The excitement caused by the 
trial, and execution of Earl Ferrers, is to be easily accounted for. The 
almost unparalleled sight of a peer of this realm brought to the bar of 
justice, and publicly put to death on other than political grounds, made 
a deep arid lasting impression ; and, though we may quarrel with the 
verdict, we cannot but admire the stern rectitude of a government which, 
once persuaded of the sanity of the culprit, would allow no consideration 
of rank or station to intervene in the vindication of the law. George II, 
when applied to, to alter the punishment from hanging to beheading, 
is reported to have said " No, he has done the deed of the bad man, and he 
shall die the death of the bad man." The Earl's fate may be truly re- 
garded as an example of the impartial majesty of the English law. But 
to proceed to Lord Ferrers' personal history. 

Lawrence Shirley, fourth Earl Ferrers, the subject of this trial, was 
the grandson of Robert the first Earl, through his fourth sou Lawrence, 
who married Anne, fourth daughter of Sir Walter Clarges, baronet, and 
whose three eldest sons, though he did not succeed to the title himself, 
were successively fourth, fifth, and sixth Earls Ferrers. The family of 
Shirley, Lords Ferrers, is one of highantiquity and honour, dating its emi- 
nence back to the time of the Normans. The first Earl Ferrers had, while 
Sir Robert Shirley, and prior to the creation of his Earldom, become Lord 
Ferrers, of Chartley, Bourchier, and Louvaine j King Charles II. having 
terminated the abeyance of those baronies in his favour, as one of the de 
scendants of the famous Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. His grandson, 
the unhappy Lord Ferrers of the trial, was born in August, 1720 ; he 
married the 16th Sept. 1752, Mary, youngest daughter of Amos Mere- 
dith, Esq., son and heir of Sir William Meredith, baronet, of Henbury j 
but his lordship's irrational and cruel usage of this lady, who was re- 
markable for her mild disposition, obliged her to apply to parliament for 
redress ; and accordingly, an act was passed by which they were sepa- 
rated. She had no issue by the Earl, and after his death, she was again 



married to Lord Frederick Campbell, brother to John, fourth Duke of 

The trial of Lord Ferrers took place in Westminster Hall; it com- 
menced on the 16th April, 1760, and lasted three days ; the Lord Keeper, 
Lord Henley, acting as Lord High Steward. 

After the usual preliminary formalities, the Earl was brought to the 
bar by the deputy governor of the Tower, having the axe carried before 
him by the gentleman gaoler, who stood with it on the left hand of the 
prisoner, with the edge turned from him. The prisoner, when he ap- 
proached the bar, made three reverences, and then fell upon his knees 
at the bar. 

L. H. S, Your lordship may rise. ' 

The prisoner rose up, and bowed to his Grace the Lord High Steward, 
and to the House of Peers 3 the compliment was returned him by his 
Grace and the Lords. 

Proclamation having been made again for silence, the Lord High 
Steward spoke to the prisoner as follows : 

Lawrence Earl Ferrers 3 you are brought to this bar to receive 
your trial upon a charge of the murder of John Johnson ; an accusa- 
tion, with respect to the crime, and the persons who make it (the grand 
jury of the county of Leicester, the place of your lordship's residence), 
of the most solemn and serious nature. 

Yet my lord, you may consider it but as an accusation 5 for the 
greatest or meanest subject of this kingdom (such is the tenderness of 
our law) cannot be convicted capitally, but by a charge made by twelve 
good and lawful men, and a verdict found by the same number of 
his equals at the least. 

My lord, in this period of the proceedings, while your lordship stands 
only as accused, I touch but gently on the offence charged upon your 
lordship ; yet, for your own sake, it behoves me strongly to mark the 
nature of the judicature before which you now appear. 

It is a happiness resulting from your lordship's birth and the constitu- 
tion of this country, that your lordship is now to be tried by your peers 
in full parliament: What greater consolation can be suggested to 
a person in your unhappy circumstances, than to be reminded, that you 
are to be tried by a set of judges, whose sagacity and penetration 
no material circumstances in evidence can escape, and whose justice 
nothing can influence or pervert ? 

This consideration, if your lordship is conscious of innocence, must 
free your mind from any perturbations that the solemnity of' such 
a trial might excite ; it will render the charge, heavy as it is, unembar- 
rassing, and leave your lordship firm and composed, to avail yourself of 
every mode of defence, that the most equal and humane laws admit of. 

Your lordship, pursuant to the course of this judicature, hath been 
furnished with a copy of the indictment, and hath had your own counsel 
assigned ; you are therefore enabled to make such defence as is most 
for your benefit and advantage ; if your lordship shall put yourself 
on trial, you must be assured to meet with nothing but justice, candour, 
and impartiality. 

Before 1 conclude, I am, by command of the House, to acquaint your 
lordship, and all other persons who have occasion to speak to the Court, 
during the trial, that they are to address themselves to the Lords 
in general, and not to any lord in particular. 


Lawrence Earl Ferrers, your lordship will do well to give attention, 
while you are arraigned on your indictment. 

Here Earl Ferrers was arraigned, in the form of the indictment, against 
him, by the Clerk of the Crown in the King's-bench. 

The case for the crown was most ably stated by the Attorney General, 
Charles Pratt, afterwards Lord Camden. Chief Justice of the Common 
Pleas, and Lord Chancellor. His speech, which is as follows, has been 
regarded as a model for an address on the part of the prosecution. 

Mr. Attorney General. " May it please your lordships, it becomes" my 
duty to open to your lordships the facts and circumstances of this 
case, out of which your lordships are to collect and find the crime that 
is charged in this indictment. 

The noble prisoner stands here arraigned before your lordships for 
that odious offence, malicious and deliberate murder. There cannot be 
a crime in human society that deserves more to be punished, or more 
strictly to be enquired after; and therefore it is, that his Majesty, 
the great executive hand of justice in this kingdom, has promoted this 
inquiry, whereby all men may see, that in the case of murder his 
Majesty makes no difference between the greatest and meanest of his 

The prisoner has a right, from his quality, to the privilege of being 
tried before this noble tribunal j if he is innocent, he has the greatest 
reason to be comforted, that your lordships are his judges for that 
nobleness and humanity, which prompt you naturally to incline towards 
mercy, will strongly exert themselves in the protection of innocence. 
But, on the other hand, if the prisoner is really guilty of the charge, his 
case is truly deplorable -, because your minds cannot be deceived by the 
false colouring of rhetoric, nor your zeal for justice perverted by any 
unmanly compassion. 

This impartial disposition in your lordships call upon the prosecutors 
to observe a conduct worthy of this noble assembly ; not to enlarge or 
aggravate any part, or advance a step beyond their instructions ; but 
barely to state the naked facts, in order that, by that means, your lord- 
ships may be enabled the better to attend to the witnesses when they are 
called, to examine and cross-examine, and sift out the truth with more 

My lords, as I never thought it my duty in any case to attempt at 
eloquence, where a prisoner stood upon trial for his life ; much less shall 
I think myself justified in doing it before your lordships - } give me leave 
therefore to proceed to a narration of the facts. 

My lords, the deceased person, Mr. Johnson, I find to have been 
employed by the Ferrers family almost during the whole course of his 
life : he was taken into their service in his youth, and continued in it 
unfortunately to the time' of his death. 

At the time a bill was passed by your lordships, about two years ago, 
to separate Lord Ferrers from his lady, Mr. Johnson was appointed 
receiver of his lordship's estates. At that time his lordship seems 
to have entertained a good opinion of him, because I am told he was 
appointed receiver at his lordship's own nomination ; but, very soon 
after he became invested with this trust, when the noble lord found there 
was no possible method, by any temptation whatever, to prevail on Mr. 
Johnson to break that trust, his lordship's mind grew to be alienated 
towards him, and his former friendship was converted into hatred. 

c 2 


The first instance of his lordship's malice, that will be produced, will 
be his giving him notice to quit a beneficial i'arm that Mr. Johnson had 
obtained a promise of from the Earl, or his relations, before he was 
appointed receiver j but when it appeared that the trustees had made 
good the promise, and had granted him a lease, my lord was obliged to 
desist from that attempt. 

When he found it was impossible to remove him from the farm, his 
resentment against Mr. Johnson increased, and he took at last a deter- 
mined resolution within himself to commit the horrid fact for which he 
now stands arraigned. 

My lords, I find several causes assigned by the prisoner for this indig- 
nation expressed against the deceased; he charged him with having 
colluded secretly with his adversaries, with being in the interest of those 
he was pleased to call his enemies, and instrumental in procuring the Act 
of Parliament : whether these charges were justly founded or not, is totally 
immaterial ; such as they were, he had conceived them. His lordship, 
who best knew the malice of his own heart, has confessed that he 
harboured these suspicions. 

Another thing h suspected was, that, in confederacy with Mr. Burslem 
and Mr. Curzon, he agreed to disappoint his lordship, in regard to 
a certain contract for coal mines. These notions, though void of truth, 
had so poisoned his lordship's mind, that he was determined at last to 
gratify his revenge by murder. 

This determination being once settled and fixed in his mind, your 
lordships will see, with what art and deliberation it was pursued : not- 
withstanding these seeming causes of disgust, he dissembled all appear- 
ance of ill-will or resentment ; his countenance towards the deceased for 
some months seemed greatly to be changed, and his behaviour was 
affable and good-humoured. 

The poor man, deluded with these appearances, was brought to believe 
he was in no danger, and that he might safely trust himself alone with 
his lordship. 

Matters being thus prepared, on Sunday, the 13th January, the pri- 
soner made an appointment to Mr. Johnson to come to him on the 
Friday following. 

His lordship, though the appointment was five or six days before, 
remembered it perfectly; nay, he remembered the very hour he was to 
come, and took his measures accordingly ; for your lordships will find, 
that in order to clear the house, Mrs. Cliffordi a woman who lives with 
his lordship, and four children, were directed by him, at three o'clock 
precisely, to absent themselves 5 they were ordered to walk out to Mrs. 
Clifford's father, about two miles from my lord's house, and not to 
return till five, or half an hour after five. 

The two men-servants likewise, the only servants of that sex then 
residing with them, were contrived to be sent out of the way; so that 
when Mr. Johnson repaired to Stanton, my lord's house, at three 
o'clock, there was no person in the house, except his lordship, and three 

Mr. Johnson, when he came to the house, rapt at the door, and was 
received by his lordship, and directed to wait some time in the still 
room ; then his lordship ordered him into the parlour, where they both 
entered together, and the door was immediately locked on the inside. 


What passed in that interval, between the time of Mr. Johnson's first 
going in, and the time of his being shot, can only be now known to your 
lordships by the noble Earl's confession, which has been very ample 
indeed upon the present occasion. 

After Mr. Johnson had been there the best part of an hour, one of the 
maids in the kitchen, hearing some high words in the parlour, went 
to the door to see if she could discover what was doing j she listened, 
and heard my lord, as she was at the kitchen door, say, down upon your 
knees j your time is come j you must die; and presently after heard a 
pistol go off; upon that, she removed from the kitchen, and retired 
to another part of the house j for she did not care to venture into 
his lordship's presence. 

Though it appeared, afterwards, that Mr. Johnson had then received 
that wound of which he died, he did not then immediately drop ; he 
arose, and was able to walk. 

Just then, my Lord Ferrers, as he confessed afterwards, felt a few 
momentary touches of compassion : he permitted Mr. Johnson to be led 
up stairs to bed, till better assistance could be called ; he suffered 
a surgeon to be sent for, nay, the very surgeon that Mr. Johnson himself 
had desired ; and Mr. Johnson's children, by his lordship's order, were 
acquainted with the accident, and sent for to see him. 

Mr. Johnson's daughter was the first person that came ; she met the 
noble lord, and the first greeting she had from him was, that he had shot 
her father ; and that he had done it on purpose, and deliberately. Mrs. 
Clifford, who had been apprized of this accident by the servants, came 
not long after ; and, in an hour and a half, or two hours, Mr. Kirkland, 
the surgeon, who was from home when the servant was dispatched, and 
at a neighbouring village, hastened with the best expedition he could 
make, to Stanton. When he came to Stanton he met my lord in the 

Here your lordship will observe, that the noble lord's conduct and 
behaviour, from this time to the time that Mr. Johnson was removed to 
his own house, seemed all along calculated for his escape ; and that the 
only anxiety he expressed was the dread of being seized, and brought to 
punishment in case Mr. Johnson should die. 

Upon Mr. Kirkland's first appearance, my lord had told him, that 
he had shot Mr. Johnson, and that he had done it coolly ; he desired he 
might -not be seized till it was known with certainty whether Mr. Johnson 
would die or not ; and threatened, that if any person attempted to seize 
him, he would shoot them. Mr. Kirkland told him, he would take care 
nobody should meddle with him. 

Mr. Kirkland was then brought up to Mr. Johnson, who was upon 
the bed ; the surgeon examined the wound, and found that the ball had 
penetrated a little below the ribs on the left side ; he took an instrument 
in his hand, called a director, in order to probe the wound : here my 
lord interrupted him, and said, You need not be at that trouble ; pass 
your instrument downwards ; I, when I shot off the pistol, directed it 
that way ; and Mr. Kirkland found this, upon examination, to be true; 
the ball had not passed through the body, but remained lodged in the 
cavities of the abdomen. 

When my lord found that the ball was in the body, he grew uneasy ; 
for he was apprehensive that the ball, if it remained there, might prove 


fatal ; he asked Mr. Kirkland, if it could be extracted j Mr. Kirkland 
told him, from what he observed, it would be impracticable to extract 
the ball : but to give him better hopes he told him, that many persons 
had lived a long while after they had been shot, though the ball had 
remained within them. 

Presently after this, the surgeon went down stairs to prepare a fomen- 
tation, and soon after returned : when he came back into the room, Mr. 
Johnson complained of the strangury. This alarmed his lordship again : 
he then asked Mr. Kirkland, what would be the consequence, if the 
bladder or kidneys were hurt? Mr. Kirkland having laid down his 
rule of conduct, wherein his prudence deserves to be commended, 
answered, that though the bladder should be wounded, or the kidneys 
hurt, there had been many cures performed upon such like wounds. 

This made his lordship tolerably easy : he then began to be in better 
spirits, which, I am sorry to say, at that time were somewhat heightened 
with liquor : for, although he was cool and fresh when he did the fact, 
yet the moment it was done, he began to drink, and continued drinking, 
at times, till twelve o'clock at night : this liquor, however, only contri- 
buted to raise his spirits, without disordering his understanding j for he 
appeared to be complete master 0f himself the whole day. 

After Mr. Kirkland had given him so much encouragement, they toge- 
ther went down to the still room ; and now his lordship verily believing 
that Mr. Johnson would recover, he grew less cautious in avowing the 
deliberation with which he tlid the fact, and declaring all the circum- 
stances that attended it. 

And here, because I will not wrong the noble lord, by adding a single 
letter to my brief, your lordships shall hear his confession, from thence, 
in his own words. 

" Kirkland, says he, I believe Johnson is more frightened than hurt ; 
my intention was to have shot him dead ; but, finding that he did not 
fall at the first shot, I intended to have shot him again, but the pain he 
complained of made me forbear j there nature did take place, in opposi- 
tion to the resolution I had formed. 1 desire you will take care of him j 
for it would be cruel not to give him ease, now I have spared his life. 

" When you speak of this afterwards, do not say (though I desire he 
may be eased of his pain) that I repented of what I have done : I am not 
sorry for it j it was not done without consideration ; I own it was pre- 
meditated j I had, some time before, charged a pistol for the purpose, 
being determined to kill him, for he is a villain, and deserves death ; but 
as he is not dead, I desire you will not suffer my being seized ; for, if he 
dies, I will go and surrender myself to the House of Lords I have 
enough to justify the action ; they will not excuse me, but it will satisfy 
my own conscience : but be sure you don't go in the morning without 
letting me see you, that I may know if he is likely to recover or not ; I 
will get up at any time ; at four o'clock in the morning. 

" To this very strange and horrid declaration Mr. Kirkland answered, 
by promising his lordship, that he would certainly give him the first 
intelligence touching Mr. Johnson's condition; and, as it was proper, for 
very prudent reasons, as well with respect to himself as Mr. Johnson, to 
dissemble with his lordship, he proceeded further, and told him, that he 
would give a favourable account of this matter. The noble lord then 
asked him, what he would say if he was called upon ; he told him he 
would say, that though Johnson was shot, that he was in a fair way 


of recovery. His lordship asked Mr. Kirkland, if he would make oath 
of that ? He said, yes. 

" Mr. Kirkland then went to see Mr. Johnson again, and found him 
better j they then went to supper, and, during the time they were at sup- 
per, his lordship mentioned several other particulars : he said, he was 
astonished, that the bullet should remain in his body; for, says he, 
I have made a trial with^this pistol, and it pierced through a board 
an inch and a half thick ; I am astonished it did not pass through 
his body ; I took good aim, and I held the pistol in this manner ; 
and then he shewed Mr. Kirkland the manner of his holding the pistol." 

He also declared the grounds, and motives for his killing Johnson 3 
that he had been a villain 5 that he was in the interest of his enemies j 
that he had joined with those who had injured him, and taken away his 
estate, by an act of parliament j that he had colluded with Mr. Curzon 
and Mr. Burslem, with respect to the coal contract. 

Another thing he mentioned with respect to the farm 5 says he, " I have 
long wanted to drive Johnson out of the farm j if he recovers, he will 
go back to Cheshire, where he came from." Mr, Kirkland said, no doubt 
but this accident would drive him home again. 

After they had supped, Mrs. Clifford came into the room, and she pro- 
posed, that Mr. Johnson should be removed to the Lount, which is 
the name of Mr. Johnson's house, and lies about a mile from Stanton j 
his lordship refused to consent to that, not because he thought Mr. 
Johnson might be hurt by the removal, but, to use his own words, 
because he would have him under his own roof, to plague the villain. 

When the supper was over, they returned back to Mr. Johnson, who 
was then under the greatest uneasiness ; he was restless, and the com- 
plaint of strangury increased : then my lord was alarmed again $ he 
enquired of the surgeon what would be the consequence, in case the 
guts were shot through ? Mr. Kirkland gave him a favourable answer, 
that revived his spirits ; he went out of the room, and invited Mr. Kirk- 
land to take a bottle of port j they then drank together, and during that 
time, the same, or the like expressions were repeated. I will not trouble 
your lordships with them again j but he all along declared, he did not do 
it hastily, but coolly and deliberately : that his intention was to have 
killed him : and that the reason why he did it at the time was, because 
he would not sign a paper of recantation, acknowledging all the inju- 
ries he had done his lordship. 

They then again returned to Mr. Johnson, after they had drank out 
the bottle : whether the liquor was prevalent or not, 1 don't know j your 
lordships will observe what followed : his behaviour to the poor man, 
though he lay there under the surgeon's hands, was totally changed, and 
his resentment grew outrageous ; my lord again attacked him upon the 
same charge as before, compelled him to acknowledge before all the 
company (of which his daughter was one) that he was a villain j nay, 
he was about to drag him out of bed upon the floor, which would hardly 
have been prevented, if Mr. Johnson, who was tutored by a wink from 
Mr. Kirkland, had not said, I do confess I am a villain : my lord at last 
went to bed j but, before he departed, he said with great earnestness to 
Mr. Kirkland, may I rely upon you ? Are you sure there is no danger ? 
May I go to bed in safety ? Mr. Kirkland said, yes, your lordship may. 
When his lordship was gone, poor Johnson begged to be removed to his 
own house. Mr, Kirkland wished it as much ; for, besides that he could 


not have that free access to his patient that was necessary, if he was to 
remain there, he thought himself in the utmost peril. My lord had 
confessed too much, and Mr. Kirkland too little ; so that if Mr. John- 
son had died there, no man in Mr. Kirkland's situation would have 
wished to have been alone with his lordship, considering the dangerous 
conversation that had passed between them. 

Mr. Kirkland, therefore, immediately went to the Lount, procured six 
or seven armed men, and came back by two o'clock in the morning. 
They removed Mr. Johnson, put him into a great chair, and wrapped 
him up in blankets, and so conveyed him home. Towards morning 
the poor man's symptoms grew worse, and Mr. Kirkland then went 

Mr. Johnson lay languishing till seven or eight in the morning, 
and then died. 

In the mean time Mr. Kirkland had procured a number of armed 
men to go down to Stanton, and to seize his lordship. When they came 
there, my lord was just out of bed ; he had his garters in his hand, and 
was seen passing towards the stable. The horses were all saddled, and 
everything got in readiness for his escape. 

Mr. Springthorpe advanced towards him j and when his lordship 
found he was really to be attacked, he fled back to his house, and there 
stood a siege of four or five hours. While he was thus beset, he 
appeared at the garret windows, and thinking himself secure in that place, 
he began to parley, and asked, what they wanted with him ? They told 
him, Mr. Johnson was dead, and that they were come to secure him. 
He said, he knew that was false ; for Mr. Johnson was not dead : that 
he wished it might be true : that he would not believe it, unless Mr. 
Kirkland would declare it : that he would pay no regard to any body 
else. He did not think fit to surrender ; but continued in the house, till 
he thought he had an opportunity of escaping through the garden. He 
was there discovered by one Cutler, a collier, who was a bold man, and 
determined to take him : he marched up to him ; and though his lord- 
ship was armed with a blunderbuss, two or three pistols, and a dagger, 
he submitted to the collier's taking him, without making the least resis- 
tance : and the moment he was in custody, he declared he gloried in the 
fact ; and again declared, that he intended to kill Johnson. He was 
then carried to Mr. Kinsey's house, and remained there till after the 
coroner sat upon the body. 

I must mention to your lordships, that upon Mr. Hall, a clergyman, 
being introduced to him, he told him, he knew his duty as well as he 
or any other clergyman : that the fact he had committed was coolly and 
deliberately done. So that your lordships see his declarations were con- 
sistent and uniform, from the beginning to the end. 

I shall neither aggravate nor observe. 

These are the circumstances which attended this horrid murder. J 
have opened them faithfully from my instructions. The case is rather 
stronger than I have made it. 

The witnesses are to acquaint your lordships, whether I have opened 
the case truly. If the evidence comes out as I have represented it to 
your lordships, then your lordships' sentence must be agreeable to law. 
The noble Earl at the bar must be found guilty. 

If he has any defence, God forbid that he should not have a fair 


opportunity of making it. Let him be heard with patience. The pro- 
secutors will be as glad as your lordships to find him innocent. 

The evidence is to determine ; and upon that evidence we shall leave it.' ' 

The entire evidence was in accordance with Mr. Attorney's narration, 
and therefore little of it need be here given. 

Earl Ferrers' own account of the actual murder was reported by the 
medical witness, Mr. Thomas Kirkland, a surgeon at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, 
who also described the last moments of Johnson, the victim, in the fol- 
lowing examination : 

Mr. Attorney. Did any discourse pass between you relating to their 
seizure of my lord's person ? Mr. Kirkland. My lord did desire that I 
would take care he was not seized, and I promised him I would. 

Did you tell him how you meant to represent it ? My lord asked me, 
what I should say upon the occasion, if I was called upon ? I told his 
lordship I should say, that, though Mr. Johnson was shot, yet there was 
a great probability of his recovering j and that I thought there was no 
necessity of seizing his lordship. His lordship then asked me, if I would 
make oath of that before a justice of the peace, if I was called upon ? I 
said, Yes. 

Where was this ? and about what part of the night did the last con- 
versation pass * It was in the parlour. 

What time was it ? Was it an hour before supper ? I think this was 
before supper j but it was repeated before and after supper. 

Did my lord, in this discourse, say any thing relating to Mr. Johnson ? 
He told me, that Mr. Johnson had long been a villain to him. He 
s;iid, he began his villainy in 1753 ; that he assisted in procuring the act 
of parliament ; that he was in the interest of his enemies j that, on Mr. 
Johnson's first coming there in the afternoon, he ordered him to settle 
an account. He then told him, Johnson, you have been a villain to me j 
if you don't sign a paper, confessing all your villainy, I'll shoot you. My 
lord told me Johnson would not sign one. Therefore, says he, I bid him 
kneel down on his knees to ask my pardon. I said, Johnson, if you have 
any thing to say, speak quickly. Then,.said he, 1 fired at him. I know 
he did not think I would have shot him j but I was determined to do it. 
I was quite cool. I took aim 5 for I always aim with a pistol in this 

Did any thing pass in reference to the farm ? My lord told me he had 
long wanted to drive Johnson out of his farm j and that he imagined, 
alter he recovered, he would go into Cheshire, from whence he came, 
and give him no more disturbance. He said he had long intended to 
shoot him : that the chief reason he did it at this time was, an affair be- 
tween Mr. Curzon, Mr. Burslem, and his lordship. But the greatest 
part of this discourse was at the time that my lord was full of liquor. 

Was he so full of liquor as to be deprived of his understanding ? I 
think not j he seemed to understand very well what he did. 

Was he in liquor when you first saw Kim ? Yes j not much. 

Did he continue drinking during the time you saw him ? He was 
drinking porter - } they said it was porter. 

Did you go to Mr. Johnson again ? Yes ; after supper I went up 
stairs to Mr. Johnson j nothing material passed ; but my lord enquired 
what I thought of Mr. Johnson j and upon my setting things in the light 
I thought I should, my lord seemed very well satisfied. 

Was any thing said about the bowels or guts ? My lord asked, if the 


bowels were wounded, what would be the consequence ? I said, some 
had had wounds in their bowels and recovered. 

There was an expression used, that the bullet was lodged in the ab- 
domen ; was that your's or my lord's expression ? It was my expression. 

Did you and my lord sit together in the evening? Yes. 

Was any wine brought ? Yes ; Mrs. Clifford brought a bottle of wine, 
and then his lordship again repeated, that he had shot Johnson, and that 
he intended it. 

Was there any thing passed between you relative to my lord's circum- 
stances ? A little before he went to bed, before 1 went to Mr. Johnson 
the last time, my lord said, Kirkland, I know you can set this affair in 
such a light, that I shall not be seized if you will j I owe you a bill, you 
may have some of your money now, and the rest when you want it j I 
told his lordship I did not want money, I should be glad to receive it 
when it was most convenient to him. 

Did you afterwards see my lord and Mr. Johnson together ? Yes. 

What passed ? My lord went up to the bedside, and spoke it tempe- 
rately ; Johnson, you know you have been a villain to me ; Mr. Johnson 
made no answer, but desired my lord to let him alone at that time : my 
lord kept calling of him villain j his passion rose, and he began to pull 
the bed-clothes, and said, Have you not been a villain? Mr. Johnson 
said, My lord, I may have been wrong as well as others : upon this, my 
lord run up in a violent passion to the bed-side, I thought he would have 
struck him ; but upon Mr. Johnson's declaring he might have been a 
villain to his lordship, my lord went to the fire-side. 

How came Mr. Johnson to make that answer? I winked at him, and 
he made the answer. 

Was Miss Johnson in the room ? Yes ; my lord went to her, after he 
had abused her father, and said, Though he has been a villain to me, I 
promise you before Kirkland, who I desire to be a witness, that I will 
take care of your family, if you do not prosecute, 

Did my lord go out of the room? Yesj he went down stairs ; he 
sent for me, and told me, he was afraid he had made Miss Johnson un- 
easy j he desired I would tell her, he would be her friend : we came up 
stairs together ; his lordship asked at the top of the stairs, whether I 
thought Mr, Johnson would recover : I replied, Yes j he said, then I may 
go to bed in safety j he went to bed directly, 

What passed after? The first thing I did I went to Mr. Johnson, who 
desired, for God's sake, that I would remove him j while we were talk- 
ing, I heard my lord open the door, and call up his pointer : Mr. Johnson 
was a good deal alarmed at it, fearing my lord should come again j but 
my lord shut the door ; then he again entreated me to remove him. 

Was any proposal made to remove him before that ? Yes j Mrs. Clif- 
ford came down before that into the still-room, and said, Cannot Johnson 
be removed ? My lord replied, No, he shall not be removed, till he be 
either better or dead : and some time after that he said, he was glad he 
had him in the house, that he could plague the rascal ; or some such 

Why did you propose to remove him ? I thought it prudent for many 
reasons to remove him ; J imagined, Mr. Johnson would die j and if 
my lord came and found him dying, his resentment would rise against 
me ; besides, Mr. Johnson was in a good deal of apprehension of being 
again shot ; I really apprehended he might die through fear, for he was a 


man of a very weak constitution ; upon this I went to the Lount and got 
a parcel of fellows, and placed Mr. Johnson in an easy chair, and carried 
him upon poles to the Lount, where he got without being much fatigued. 

Did you apprehend that the moving would be prejudicial to him, con- 
sidering the condition he was in ? It is impossible to say it might not; 
but there was much more danger in leaving him at Stanton ; and he ex- 
pressed satisfaction on my removing him : when he came there, he de- 
sired he might be removed from one room where he was, into another j 
for he said, my lord might come and shoot him there, the window was 
facing the bed ; I told him, he might make himself easy, I would place 
a sentry at each door. 

At what time was Mr. Johnson removed ? I believe about two o'clock 
in the morning ; I am not quite certain of the hour. 

How long did he live after that ? He lived, as I was informed, till 
about nine ; I did not leave him till seven o'clock. 

In what condition was he when you left him ? Weak and low, and 
cold in the extremities. 

What was your judgment about him ? That he would be dead ; he 
thought so himself. 

What happened after he was dead ? Nothing more than my examining 
the body. 

What did you do upon that ? I examined it the next day when the 
coroner's inquest was taken. 

Did you give an account of the wound ? The ball had passed just 
under the lowest rib, on the left side, through one of the guts, and 
through a bone we call the " os inominatum/' and lodged in the bone 
called the " os sacrum." 

Do you apprehend that Mr. Johnson died of that wound ? I do ; I am 
clear in it. 

A Mr. Springthorpe, examined by Mr. Gould, thus related the seizure 
of Lord Ferrers. 

Was you present at the time of taking Lord Ferrers ? Springthorpe. 

I was. 

What day was it ? On Saturday morning. 

What time in the morning? I believe it was between ten and eleven 

Had you a multitude of people with you ? The first part of the time I 
had not ; but before he was taken there were a great many. 

Was you armed ? I had a pistol I took from Mr. Burslem's. 

Where did you go first ? I went to see Mr. Johnson; he was my 
friend, and I found he was dead. Mr. Burslem desired I would go and 
help to take Lord Ferrers : I condescended to do it. When I came to the 
hall yard, my lord in a few minutes came ; he seemed to be going to the 
stable, with his stockings down, and his garters in his hands ; his lord- 
ship seeing me demanded to know what I wanted. I presented my pistol 
to his lordship, and I said it was he I wanted, and I would have him ; 
he put his hand, whether he was going to put his garters into his 
pocket, or to pull out a pistol, I cannot say; but he suddenly run into 
the house. I never saw more of him for two hours ; in about two hours 
he came to the garret window ; I went under the window ; he called ; I 
asked him what he wanted ; he said, How is Johnson ? I said he was 
dead ; he said, You are a lying scoundrel, God damn you. I told him he was 
dead ; he said, I will not believe it till Kirkland tells me so. I said he 


was dead j he said, Then disperse the people, and I will go and surrender: 
let the people in, and let them have some victuals and drink. 1 told him 
I did not* come for victuals, but for him, and I would have him. He 
went away from the window swearing he would not be taken. Two 
hours after that there was a report that he was upon the bowling-green ; 
I was at this part of the house : I run there, and, by the time I got there, 
I saw two colliers had hold of his lordship. I said, I would take care 
nobody should hurt him. I took from a man that had hold of him, a 
pistol and a powder-horn j I shot the pistol off, and it made a great im- 
pression against the stones. I heard my lord say, he had shot a villain 
and a scoundrel, and, clapping his hand upon his bosom, he said, I glory 
in his death. That is all I know of the matter. 

Lord Ferrers being called upon for his defence, applied for an adjourn- 
ment to the following day : to this Lord Mansfield objected, unless the 
Earl would open the nature of his defence, or give some reason why he 
was not then prepared to go on. This not being done, the Peers returned 
to the Chamber of Parliament to debate the question, and on their coming 
back into Westminster Hall, the Lord High Steward announced to Lord 
Ferrers'that he was forthwith to proceed with his defence. 

Lord Ferrers then addressed the Court as follows : 

Earl Ferrers. " My lords, the kind of defence I mentioned to your 
lordships before, I really don't know how myself to enter upon ; it is 
what my family have considered for me, and they have engaged all the 
evidence that are to be examined upon this unhappy occasion, who I 
really have not seen j I do not well know what they have to say : 1 should, 
therefore, hope your lordships will give me all the assistance that is pos- 
sible in their examination. 

My lords, I believe that what I have already mentioned to your lord- 
ships, as the ground of this defence, has been a family complaint ; and I 
have heard that my own family have, of late, endeavoured to prove me 
such. The defence I mean is occasional insanity of mindj and I am 
convinced, from recollecting within myself, that, at the time of this ac- 
tion, I could not know what I was about. I say, my lords, upon reflec- 
ting within myself, I am convinced, that, at that time, I could not know 
what I was about. 

It has been too plainly proved, that, at the time this accident happened, 
I was very sober, that I was not disordered with liquor : your lordships 
will observe, from the evidence both of Mr. Kirkland and Miss Johnson, 
that it plainly appeared that this man never suspected there was any 
malice, or that I had any." 

The evidence adduced in support of his Lordship's plea of insanity will 
be found fully summed up, and commented on, in the reply of the 
Solicitor General. The testimony of two witnesses, however, was of 
such moment, that it is here given at length. The first of these was the 
Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley, who was thus examined by Earl Ferrers. 

What relation are you to me ? Brother. 

Do you know any, and which, of the family, that have been afflicted 
with lunacy ; if you do, please to mention their names ? I believe the 
prisoner at the bar has that misfortune, 

What is your reason for such belief? I have many reasons for it. The 
first is, that I have seen him several times talking to himself, clenching 
his fists, grinning, and having several gestures of a madman, without 
any seeming cause leading thereto. I have likewise very frequently known 


him extremely suspicious of plots and contrivances against him from his 
own family; and, when he was desired to give some account what the 
plots were that he meant, he could not make any direct answer. Ano- 
ther reason I have for thinking him so is, his falling into violent passion, 
without any adequate cause. 

Do you believe that, at some times, I have been hurried into violent 
fits, so as not to know the distinction between a moral or immoral act ? 
I believe, at those times when my lord has been transported by this 
disease of lunacy, that he has not been able to distinguish properly be- 
tween moral good and evil. 

Has any other of the family, besides myself, been afflicted with lunacy? 
I have heard -fstoptj 

Please to inform their lordships, whether, at the time I have been 
transported with such violent fits, they have been the effects of drink, and 
whether they have happened when I was sober ? Frequently when my 
lord has been sober, much more so when he has been a little inflamed 
with liquor. 

Do you know of any intention in the family to take out a commission 
of lunacy against me ? I heard it talked of. 

How long ago ? I think I can recollect it was at the time of his lord- 
ship's committing the outrage at Lord Westmoreland's house that it was 
proposed to be done ; but afterwards they were afraid to go through 
with it ; and the reason given was, lest, if the court of judicature should 
not be thoroughly satisfied of my lord's lunacy upon inspection, that the 
damage would be very great to those that should attempt it. 

Why was the family afraid that I should appear in the courts of judi- 
cature to be in my senses ? Because my lord had frequently such long 
intervals of reason, that, we imagined, if he, on the inspection, appeared 
reasonable, the court would not grant the commission against him. 

What damage do you mean that the family was apprehensive of, in case 
the court should refuse a commission? We apprehended my lord would 
sue us for scandalum magnatum. 

Was the family apprehensive of any other kind of damage ? I know 
of none. 

Att. Gen. My lords, I did not intend to have troubled this gentleman ; 
but from what he has said, your lordships will permit me to ask him two 
or three questions ; I shall do it very tenderly, and with as much pro- 
priety as I can. In giving his account of the noble lord's state of mind, 
as far as 1 could collect it, he said, that he had more reasons than one 
why he deemed him to be insane. 

Attorney General. Mr. Shirley, you said that the first ground was, that 
his lordship would, at times, talk to himself, grin, and use certain ges- 
tures, proper only to madmen Now, as to this first mark of insanity, 
was this frequently the case of his lordship ? Very frequently. 

Did he, at those times, speak loud, or use any intelligible language to 
himself? He did not. 

Did he, at such times, offer to commit any mischief, or betray any 
marks of disorder, while in that situation ? I do not recollect any. 

Then, as far as I can understand you, at those times, his behaviour in 
those intervals was perfectly innocent. Yes. 

At such times have you ever entered into discourse with him ? No, I 
do not remember. 


Did you never ask him a single question when you have seen him 
walking backwards and forwards in the way you mention?! don't 
remember I have. 

Did you never hear him speak at such times to other persons ? Not 
whilst he continued in those attitudes. 

I don't ask ybu whether he conversed the time that he was mute, but 
within a quarter or half an hour ? I am not certain. 

Your next ground for supposing him to be insane was, That he was 
accustomed to be transported into passions without any adequate cause, 
were those the words ? Without any seeming cause. 

Was not " adequate" the expression you used? Yes. 

I should be glad to know whether you deem every man that is trans- 
ported with anger, without an adequate cause, to be a madman ? I 
deem it as a sign of madness in him ; but there were other causes. 

I ask you a general question, and I do not expect a particular answer. 
Whether you deem a person that is transported with fury without reason, 
to be a madman ? I think a person may be transported to fury without 
an adequate cause, that is no madman. 

Then please to recollect some particular instance of this frantic passion, 
and state it. I really cannot command my memory so far. I have not 
seen my lord these two years, till the time of this unhappy confinement. 

Then I am to understand you, that you cannot recollect one particular 
instance j Am I or not ? I cannot recollect any at this time. 

Then as to the suspicion of plots without any foundation ; will you 
please to enumerate any of those ? He never himself would give any 
particular account of what he suspected, only that he did suspect that 
the family was in some combination against him -, and when I have asked 
him, What it was that he meant ? he would never give me a direct answer 
to that question. 

Does that kind of behaviour, as you describe it, denote a man out of 
his senses r I thought so. I was so fully possessed of that opinion, 
that I declared to other people long ago, that I thought him a madman. 

Please to inform their lordships, whether the unfortunate earl lived 
well or ill with his family? Indeed, he did not live in friendship with his 

Were there not disputes on both sides ? Yes, there were j his younger 
brothers and sisters were under the unhappy constraint of suing for their 

Then please to inform their lordships, whether, in truth, there was 
not a combination in the family against him ? I do not mean a criminal 
one. I am very certain that was not what my lord alluded to. 

If you are certain of that, you can inform their lordships what it was 
that he alluded to ? I will give a reason why I am certain it was not 
that j because it appeared to be some secret combination : that was a 
thing publicly known. 

How did you recollect that the combination was secret ? By my lord's 
manner of expressing himself. 

Can you recollect the phrase or the words he used ? I cannot. 

In another part of your examination you was asked, whether the earl 
could distinguish between good and evil ? You said he could not dis- 
tinguish {hem properly. Was he at that time less able to distinguish 
properly between good and evil than any other man that is transported 
into a violent passion ? I never saw any man so transported. 


Did be express himself in insensible words, so as that you could dis- 
cover the state of his mind ; and that it was that of a madman, and not 
a man in passion ? I considered it as madness. 

Can you recollect any expression, in any fit of passion that my lord 
was in, that might not as well have come from the mouth of any other 
passionate man ? Indeed I cannot. 

You recollect an old adage, " Ira furor brevis est :" do you believe 
that his was such madness as is there poetically described ? I believe 
that it really proceeded from madness. 

Have you ever seen him so transported upon any other occasion than 
that of anger? Have you seen any appearance of that kind when he was 
cool and calm? I have seen him break into passions without any seem- 
ing cause. 

You said you could not remember any instance, when the question was 
asked you ; can you now ? I remember once being at a hunting seat at 
Quarendon in Leicestershire, as I chose to avoid the bottle, I went up 
stairs to the ladies ; Lady Ferrers, at that time, lived with him ; and, 
without any previous quarrel, my lord came up stairs into the room j and 
after standing for some time with his back to the fire, he broke out into 
the grossest abuse of me, insulting me, and swearing at me ; and I can- 
not to this day or hour conceive any reason for it. 

Had you never any dispute or quarrel with your brother ? Not at that 

Might not you have had some quarrel a few days before ? No. 

Are you confident of that ? I am confident. 

Had he no suspicion at that time of you interesting yoiirself with re- 
spect to my Lady Ferrers ? There was then no quarrel existing. 

Had there never been a quarrel between my lord and my lady ? I think 
not ; it was soon after his marriage. 

The other witness was one Elizabeth Williams, who was also thus 
examined by the Earl. 

How long have you known Lord Ferrers > A great many years. 

Do you know of any distemper that Lord Ferrers is afflicted with, and 
what is it ? He never appeared like any other gentleman. 

Wherein did he differ from any other people in general ? He always 
was a-musing and talking to himself. He spit in the looking-glass, tore 
the pictures, swearing he would break my bureau open, and would break 
all the glasses in my house, and would throttle me if I would not let 
him do it. 

Had he any particular reason for this conduct ? None that I ever 
saw, but like a delirious man, 

Did you keep a public-house ? Yes. 

How near did you live to my lord? My lord was at my house, 
and boarded with me. 

Are you the wife of the witness Williams? Yes. 

Where did Lord Ferrers live, at the time he behaved in that odd man- 
ner you speak of? He had lodgings at Muswell-Hill. 

How far did you live from him ? Two miles, to the best of my 
knowledge; he frequently used to come; I have made him coffee and 
sent up a dish, he always drank it out of the spout, which surprised me, 
that I thought him delirious. 

How long ago is that ? I believe it is about twelve months ago, to 
the best of my knowledge. 


Have you often seen Lord Ferrers behave in that manner ? I never 
saw him behave like any other gentleman in my life. 

Was the coffee hot when he drank it out of the spout? Hot. He 
always went about the town like a madman, throttled me, and threw me 
down in the yard, one day when he took the horse away. 

Did you think Lord Ferrers a madman ? I know he was by all 

Was he generally thought so by other people ? By all the whole 

A Lord. When he threatened to break open your bureau, and to use 
you ill if you did not let him do it, was he in liquor ? El. Williams. 
Sober as I am now. 

A Lord. Did you ever, upon any occasion when he committed these 
outrages, observe that he had been drinking ? El. Williams. Never ; 
he never drank in the morning but a little tea, or coffee, or some broth. 

Earl Ferrers. Have you ever seen me commit any other acts of 
outrage besides those you have mentioned ? A great many more that 
are worse. 

Name them. Swearing, cursing, and damning us ; and wishing us all 
at hell, and himself at hell j and threatened to break the glasses j 
and talked to himself for hours together in bed. 

Was he drunk or sober at those times ? Very rarely j but he seemed 
more to be disturbed in his mind. 

Mention the circumstance about my coming for the mare. My lord 
came for the mare, it was at church-time, and brought his servants, and 
a hammer in his hand, and guns, with a tuck in his hand, and broke the 
stable door open by violence of arms, and knocked me down with his 
arm, and run the tuck into my husband, fetched the blood, I was obliged to 
have a surgeon to attend him -, and took the mare away by force of arms j 
and if any body came to hinder him, he said he would blow their brains 
out. He always had pistols nobody knew of. I never saw any gentle- 
man that came to my house before, that had those things about them. 
I used to like to take them out of his bed-chamber, but was afraid to 
touch them, for fear of what he should do to me himself, by seeing his 
mind so disturbed. 

Were those outrages committed when he was drunk or sober? 
Sober for the general ; and when he took the mare away, as sober as he 
is now. 

Earl of Hardwicke. Inform their lordships, whether, before my lord 
came in this manner to get the mare out of the stable, he had before 
sent any servant to demand the mare, and had been refused ? Williams. 
Yes, he had, the boy was gone to church. We always kept it under 
lock, because there was more of his lordship's horses ; and nobody was 
to go into the stable but his lordship's ostler. 

At the conclusion of the evidence of insanity, the Earl put in a paper 
which was read by the clerk, and ran as follows : 

My lords : It is my misfortune to be accused of a crime of the most 
horrid nature. My defence is, in general, that I am Not Guilty : the 
fact of Homicide is proved against me by witnesses, who, for aught I 
can say, to the contrary, speak truly. 

But if I know myself at this time, I can truly affirm, I was ever 


incapable of it, knowingly : if I have done and said what has been 
alleged, I must have been deprived of my senses. 

I have been driven to the miserable necessity of proving my own 
want of understanding; and *im told, the law will not allow me 
the assistance of counsel in this nase, in which, of all others, I should 
think it most wanted. 

The more I stand in need of assistance, the greater reason I have to 
hope for it from your lordships. 

Witnesses have been called to prove my insanity to prove an unhappy 
disorder of mind, and which I am grieved to be under the necessity of 

If they have not directly proved me so insane as not to know the 
difference between a moral and immoral action, they have at least proved 
that I was liable to be driven and hurried into that unhappy condition 
upon very slight occasions. 

Your lordships will consider whether my passion, rage, madness (or 
whatever it may be called) was the effect of a weak or distempered 
mind, or whether it arose from my own wickedness, or inattention 
to my duty. 

If I could have controlled my rage, I am answerable for the conse- 
quences of it. But if I could not, and if it was the mere effect of a 
distempered brain, I am not answerable for the consequences. 

My lords, I mention these things as hints I need not, indeed I 
cannot, enlarge upon this subject : your lordships will consider all cir- 
cumstances, and I am sure you will do me justice. 

If it be but a matter of doubt, your lordships will run the hazard 
of doing me injustice, if you find me guilty. 

My lords, if my insanity had been of my own seeking, as the sudden 
effect of drunkenness, I should be without excuse. But it is proved, by 
witnesses for the crown, that I was not in liquor. 

Mr. Kirkland, who drank and conversed with me, in order to betray 
me, (Mr. Attorney may commend his caution, but not his honesty,) re- 
presents me the most irrational of all madmen, at the time of my doing 
a deed which I reflect upon with the utmost abhorrence. 

The Counsel for the Crown will put your lordships in mind of every 
circumstance against me ; I must require of your lordships' justice, to 
recollect every circumstance on the other side. 

My life is in your hands, and I have every thing to hope, as my 
conscience does not condemn me of the crime I stand accused of ; for I 
had no preconceived malice ; and was hurried into the perpetration 
of this fatal deed by the fury of a disordered imagination. 

To think of this, my lords, is an affliction, which can be aggravated 
only by the necessity of making it my defence. 

May God Almighty direct your judgments, and correct my own ! 

Earl Ferrers. My lords, I will mention one circumstance, which I did 
speak of yesterday j it was said, that I knew of a lease Johnson had, 
but it has never been proved j therefore, I imagine, that what I asserted, 
that I did not know of it, must be admitted as truth. 

L. H. S. Earl Ferrers, Hath your lordship any thing further to offer ? 

Earl Ferrers. No. 

The Solicitor General, the Hon. Charles Yorke, afterwards Lord 
Chancellor, made a long and elaborate reply on the part of the Crown. 
VOL. iv. NO. xv. D 


From it is here extracted the portion which bore upon the prisoner's de- 
fence of insanity. 

Sol. Gen. " My lords, what is the evidence produced by the noble lord ? 
In the first place, there is none which applies to the time of committing 
the fact. His sobriety is admitted, and drunkenness would not excuse ; 
and even supposing it had appeared to your lordships, that the noble 
prisoner was sometimes, by fits and starts, under a degree of lunacy or 
temporary insanity j yet if he was of sound mind at that hour, he is a 
person within all the rules and distinctions which Lord Hale explain?. 
But, my lords, in the next place, I must observe, that no general 
evidence has been offered, which proves his lunacy or insanity at 
any time ; for his own witnesses fail in their endeavours to shew it. 
This appears from their manner of expressing themselves in their origi- 
nal examination j but still more in the answers, which they gave to the 
questions asked upon the cross-examination. 

The two first witnesses called were, Mr. Benefold, and Mr. Goostrey. 
They describe the insanity of the noble lord at the bar to consist of 
flights. They say, that he would swear; would talk to himself; that 
he would use strange gestures ; that he had friends, and suspected them ; 
that he was of a positive temper, and difficult to be dissuaded from any 
opinion or resolution which he had once formed. But Mr. Bennefold, 
upon the cross-examination, admitted, that he never knew of any act of 
wildness done by his lordship, nor any physician sent for, to take care of 
him in that respect. He said, upon the whole, that he thought Lord 
Ferrers had better parts and understanding than ordinary men. Mr. 
Goostrey told your lordships, upon the cross-examination, that he 
had done business several years for Lord Ferrers; that he had advised 
and prepared deeds for his lordship to execute ; that he had assisted in 
suffering a recovery to bar the entail of the estate ; and admitted his 
sense and capacity in general, but inferred insanity from positive- 
ness of temper and opinion. However, in answer to a question proposed 
by one of your lordships, he said, that he thought Lord Ferrers capable 
of distinguishing between moral and immoral actions. 

Several other witnesses have been called to-day. I will first mention 
Mr. Clarges. He describes similar circumstances with Mr. Bennefold 
and Mr. Goostrey, from which he collects the insanity of the noble 
prisoner. He said, that he had observed great oddities in my lord, 
during his minority, but no defect of understanding. He could not 
specify particular instances ; and added, that his lordship was jealous 
and suspicious : but the witness never saw him in such a situation, 
as not to be capable of distinguishing between good and evil, and not to 
know, that murder was a great crime. 

My lords, this account of the state of the noble prisoner's mind 
is consistent, not only with a considerable degree of understanding, but 
with the highest degree of it. If the law were to receive such excuses, 
it would put a sword into the hand of every savage and licentious man, 
to disturb private life, and public order. 

My lords, there was another witness of a different and a much lower 
sort than those whom I have named ; I mean Elizabeth Williams. She 
was the only person who said, that the noble Earl was always mad. 
When she came to explain the instances from which bhe drew that con- 
clusion, the principal one insisted upon was ridiculous ; the anger which 
he shewed against a servant, who had neglected to take care of a 


favourite mare, intrusted to his management. This was a vivacity 
so natural, that if it be deemed a symptom of madness, few are free 
from it j and I doubt the inference will go far in cases of common life. 

The two next witnesses, whom I will mention, are the brothers of the 
noble Earl, My lords, I own I felt for them. It gave me pain to 
see them, in a cause which touches a brother's life, brought to the 
bar as witnesses, to mitigate the consequences of one misfortune, 
by endeavouring to prove another of the most tender and affecting 
nature ; and if they had spoke stronger to matters of conjecture, opinion, 
and belief, for my part, I could easily have excused them. 

My lords, they both spoke vviih caution, and as men of honour ; but 
one of them was the only witness of weight, who expressed a belief, 
that, at particular times, the noble lord might not be able to distinguish 
between moral good and evil. I did not observe, that he spoke of any 
instance within his own recollection. The circumstances, from which 
these gentlemen inferred insanity, were for the most part of the same 
kind with those which came from the mouths of the other witnesses. 
They did not carry the marks of it in the least degree beyond that 
evidence. And Mr. Walter Shirley admitted, that the noble lord at the 
bar had long intervals of reason. I endeavour to repeat the expression, 
and I think it was so. Mr. Robert Shirley told your lordships, that 
he had not seen the noble prisoner for four years past ; that the last 
time of seeing Lord Ferrers was, at Burton upon Trent. He mentioned 
the carrying of pistols, and a large case knife, at that time. I under- 
stood him to say, that the noble lord generally did so ; the witness had 
seen it only once ; but from that circumstance he argued insanity. 
Your lordships will judge, whether this practice might not be owing to 
jealousy and violence of temper, as well as to lunacy and madness. 
The witness added, that he had written formerly to his brother Captain 
Washington Shirley, about taking out a commission of lunacy against 
Lord Ferrers ; but I could not find, that any measures were taken in 
consequence of that opinion given by the witness, nor did he himself 
ever take any steps towards it, nor any branch of his family. 

The last witness called, on behalf of the noble prisoner, was Doctor 
Monro. He was brought here to describe, what symptoms he considers 
as marks of lunacy or insanity. He said, that there were many; and on 
being asked particularly, as to the several symptoms suggested in this 
cause, Doctor Monro was led to speak principally of three marks of 
lunacy. The first was common fury, not caused by liquor, but raised by 
it. Surely this circumstance will not infer insanity. The next was, 
jealousy and suspicion, with causeless quarrelling. Do not many, who 
are not lunatics, suspect or quarrel without cause, and become dangerous 
to their neighbours? The third was, carrying arms; which (he said) 
though less usual, might be a mark of lunacy. And it is equally true, 
that such behaviour may prove, in many cases, a bad heart and vicious 
mind, as well as lunacy. My lords, the general observation, which 
occurs upon Dr. Monro's evidence, is this ; that he did not describe any 
of those things^ as absolute marks of lunacy, so as to denote every man 
a lunatic, who was subject to them. Indeed he could not have said it, 
consistently with common sense arid experience. 

This was the import of the evidence of the noble prisoner No wit- 
nesses were offered, on the part of the King, in reply to that evidence, 


And, my lords, the reason why they were not offered was, because the 
counsel who attended your lordships for the King, choose to submit it to 
your opinions, whether the evidence produced for the prisoner does not 
tend to strengthen, rather than weaken, that proof of capacity, which 
arises out of all circumstances urged, in support of the charge ? From 
those circumstances, I have already shewn, that the noble prisoner was 
conscious of what he did, at the time of the offence committed j that he 
weighed the motives j that he acted with deliberation , that he knew 
the consequences. 

I will only take notice of one thing more. Your lordships have 
attended with great patience, and the most impartial regard to justice, 
to all the evidence, and every observation, which has been laid before 
you. You have seen the noble prisoner, for two days at your bar 
(though labouring under the weight of this charge), cross-examining the 
witnesses for the King, and examining his own in a manner so pertinent, 
as cannot be imputed merely to the hints and advice of those agents and 
counsel, with which you have indulged him. I am persuaded, from the 
appearance and conduct of the noble prisoner, that if the fact itself 
would have admitted doubts, and probable arguments, to repel the force 
of any one material circumstance, your lordships would have heard him 
press those arguments, with sense and sagacity. 

But, my lords, the truth is, that the fact tried this day stands without 
alleviation. There is not a colour for the defence, unless it arises from 
the enormity of the crime, aggravated by the manner of committing it ; 
an old, faithful servant of himself and his family, murdered in cold blood, 
whilst he was performing, by express orders, an act of dutiful attendance 
upon his master ; murdered in the most deliberate and wilful manner, 
destructive of all confidence in human society. My lords, in some sense, 
every crime proceeds from insanity. All cruelty, all brutality, all 
revenge, all injustice, is insanity. There were philosophers, in ancient 
times, who held this opinion, as a strict maxim of their sect ; and, 
my lords, the opinion is right in philosophy, but dangerous in judicature. 
It may have a useful and a noble influence, to regulate the conduct 
of men ; to controul their impotent passions ; to teach them, that 
virtue is the perfection of reason, as reason itself is the perfection 
of human nature; but not to extenuate crimes, nor to excuse those 
punishments, which the law adjudges to be their due. 

My lords, the necessity of his Majesty's justice; the necessity of 
public example, called for this prosecution ; and the effect of the whole 
evidence is submitted to the weight and wisdom of your judgment/' 

The peers unanimously found Lord Ferrers guilty, and on the 18th 
April, the third day of the trial, the Earl was brought up for judgment. 
His lordship being called upon to say why sentence of death should not 
pass, thus addressed the Court through the clerk. 

" My lords, I must acknowledge myself infinitely obliged for the fair and 
candid trial your lordships have indulged me with. 

I am extremely sorry that I have troubled your lordships with a defence 
that I was always much averse to, and has given me the greatest un- 
easiness ; but was prevailed on by my family to attempt it, as it was 
what they themselves were persuaded of the truth of; and had proposed 
to prove me under the unhappy circumstances that have been ineffec- 
tually represented to your lordships. 


This defence has put me off from what I proposed, and what perhaps 
might have taken off the malignity of the accusation ; but, as there has 
been no proof made to your lordships, can only be deemed at this time 
my own assertion j but that I must leave to your lordships. 

My lords, I have been informed of this intention of the family before ; 
and your lordships, I hope, will be so good to consider, the agony of mind 
a man must be under, when his liberty and property are both attacked : 
my lords, under these unhappy circumstances, though the plea I have 
attempted was not sufficient to acquit me to your lordships, according to 
the laws of this country j yet I hope your lordships will think, that ma- 
lice, represented by the counsel for the crown, could not subsist ; as I 
was so unhappy as to have no person present at the time of the fatal 
accident, it was impossible for me to shew your lordships, that I was not 
at that instant possessed of my reason. 

As the circumstances of my case are fresh in your lordships' memories, 
I hope your lordships will, in compassion to my infirmities, be kind 
enough to recommend me to his majesty's clemency. 

My lords, as I am uncertain whether my unhappy case is within the 
late act of parliament, if your lordships should be of opinion that it is, I 
humbly hope the power of respiting the execution will be extended in 
my favour, that I may have an opportunity of preparing myself for the 
great event, and that my friends may be permitted to have access to me. 

If any thing I have offered should be thought improper, I hope your 
lordships will impute it to the great distress I am under at this juncture." 

Lord High Steward. Has your lordship any thing else to offer ? Earl 
Ferrers. No. 

Proclamation was then made for silence. 

Lord High Steward. " Lawrence Earl Ferrers ; His majesty, from his 
royal and equal regard to justice, and his steady attention to our consti- 
tution, (which hath endeared him in a wonderful manner to the universal 
duty and affection of his subjects) hath commanded this inquiry to be 
made, upon the blood of a very ordinary subject, against your lordship, 
a peer of this realm : your lordship hath been arraigned ; hath pleaded, 
and put yourself on your peers ; and they (whose judicature is founded 
and subsists in wisdom, honour, and justice) have unanimously found 
your lordship guilty of the felony and murder charged in the indictment. 

It is usual, my lord, for courts of justice, before they pronounce the 
dreadful sentence pronounced by the law, to open to the prisoner the 
nature of the crime of which he is convicted ; not in order to aggravate 
or afflict, but to awaken the mind to a due attention to, and consideration 
of, the unhappy situation into which he hath brought himself. 

My lord, the crime of which your lordship is found guilty, murder, is 
incapable of aggravation j and it is impossible, but that, during your lord- 
ship's long confinement, you must have reflected upon it, represented to 
your mind in the deepest shades, and with all its train of dismal and de- 
testable consequences. 

As your lordship hath received no benefit, so you can derive no con- 
solation from that refuge you seemed almost ashamed to take, under a 
pretended insanity ; since it hath appeared to us all, from your cross- 
examination of the king's witnesses, that you recollected the minutest 
circumstances of facts and conversations, to which you and the witnesses 
only could be privy, with the exactness of a memory more than ordinary 


sound ; it is therefore as unnecessary as it would be painful to me, to 
dwell longer on a subject so black and dreadful. 

It is with much more satisfaction, that I can remind your lordship, 
that though, from the present tribunal, before which you now stand, you 
can receive nothing but strict and equal justice ; yet you are soon to 
appear before an Almighty Judge, whose unfathomable wisdom is able, 
by means incomprehensible to our narrow capacities, to reconcile justice 
with mercy ; but your lordship's education must have informed you, and 
you are now to remember, such beneficence is only to be obtained by 
deep contrition, sound, unfeigned, and substantial repentance. 

Confined strictly, as your lordship must be, for the very short re- 
mainder of your life, according to the provision of the late act $ yet, from 
the wisdom of the legislature, which, to prevent as much as possible, 
this heinous and horrid offence of murder, hath added infamy to death -, 
you will be still, if you please, entitled to converse and communicate 
with the ablest divines of the Protestant church, to whose pious care and 
consolation, in fervent prayer and devotion, I most cordially recommend 
your lordship. 

Nothing remains for me, but to pronounce the dreadful sentence of 
the law ; and the judgment of the law is, and this high court doth award, 

That you, Lawrence Earl Ferrers, return to the prison of the Tower, 
from whence you came ; from thence you must be led to the place of 
execution, on Monday next, being the 21st day of this instant April j and 
when you come there, you must be hanged by the neck till you are dead, 
and your body must be dissected and anatomized. 

And God Almighty be merciful to your soul !" 

The prisoner was removed from the bar by the Lieutenant of the Tower. 
The commission of the High Steward was then dissolved, and the Court 

The following account of the execution of Earl Ferrers is to be found 
attached to most reports extant, of his lordship's trial. 

The Sheriffs, on Monday, the 5th day of May, 1761, being attended 
by their under- sheriffs, and other proper officers, went to the outward 
gate of the Tower of London, and at nine o'clock in the morning sent 
notice to the Lieutenant that they were there, ready to receive the body 
of Lawrence Earl Ferrers, Viscount Tamwortb, pursuant to the King's 
writ in that behalf. 

His lordship being informed of it, sent a message to the sheriffs, 
requesting their permission that he might go in his own landau, which 
was waiting for him at the Tower, instead of the mourning- coach 
which had been provided by his friends ; which request being granted, 
his lordship, attended by the Reverend Mr. Humphreys, the chaplain of 
the Tower, entered into his landau, drawn by six horses, and was 
conducted in it, by the officers of the Tower, to the outward gate, and 
there delivered into the custody of the sheriffs, upon their giving 
the following' receipt : 

' % Tower-Hill, 5th May, 1760. 

" Received then of Charles Rainsford, Esq., Deputy- Lieutenant of the 
Tower of London, the body of the within-named Lawrence Earl Ferrers, 
Viscount Tamworth, delivered to us in obedience of the King's writ, of 
which the within is a tpuc copy. GEO. ERRINGTON, PAUL VAILLANT, 
Sheriffs of London and Sheriff of Middlesex." 


Mr. Sheriff Vaillant accompanied his lordship in the landau from the 
Tower gate to the place of execution j and, upon his entrance into it, 
addressing himself to his lordship, he told him, That it gave him 
the highest concern to wait upon him upon so melancholy an occasion, 
but he would do everything in his power to render his situation as easy 
as possible j and hoped that, whatever he did, his lordship would impute 
to the necessary discharge of his duty. To which his lordship answered, 
Sir, I am very much obliged to you, I take it very kindly that you are 
pleased to accompany me. His lordship being dressed in a suit of light 
clothes, embroidered with silver, said, You may, perhaps, Sir, think 
it strange to see me in this dress, but I have my particular reasons for it. 

The civil and military powers attended the sheriffs from thence to the 
place of execution, and the procession was as follows : 

First, a very large body of the constables for the county of Middle- 
sex (the greatest probably that ever had been assembled together on any 
occasion), preceded by one of the high-constables. 

Then a party of horse-grenadiers, and a party of foot j 

Then Mr. Sheriff Errington in his chariot, accompanied therein by his 
under-sheriff Mr. Jackson j 

Then followed the landau, escorted by two other of horse-grenadiers 
and foot ; 

Then Mr. Sheriff Vaillant's chariot, in which was his under-sheriff Mr. 
Nicolls ; 

Then a mourning coach and six ; 

And, lastly, a hearse and six, which was provided for the conveyance 
of his lordship's corpse from the place of execution to Surgeons-Hall. 

The procession was conducted with the utmost solemnity ; but moved 
so very slow, that it did not reach the place of execution till a quarter before 
twelve, so that his lordship was two hours and three quarters in the landau ; 
during the whole of which time he appeared to be perfectly easy and 
composed, and his decent deportment seemed greatly to affect the minds 
of all who beheld him ; insomuch that although his lordship thus passed 
many hundred thousand spectators, yet so respectful was the behaviour 
of all towards him, that not the least affront or indignity was offered to 
him by any one ; but, on the contrary, many persons saluted him with 
their prayers for his salvation. 

His lordship asked the sheriff, if he had ever seen so great a concourse 
of people before ? and upon his answering that he had not; I suppose, 
said his lordship, it is, because they never saw a lord hanged before. He 
said, that he had wrote to the king, to beg that he might suffer where 
his ancestor the Earl of Essex had suffered j and that he was in the 
greater hopes of obtaining the favour, as he had the honour of quartering 
part of the same arms, and of being allied to his majesty, and that he 
thought it was hard that he must die at the place appointed for the exe- 
cution of common felons. But whatever his lordship's thoughts were 
upon that account, those considerations will for ever throw an additional 
lustre on his majesty's impartiality and justice. 

Mr. Humphries the chaplain, who, it seems, had not attended his lord- 
ship till this morning, took occasion to observe, that the world would 
naturally be very inquisitive concerning the religion his lordship pro- 
fessed -, and asked him, If he chose to say any thing upon that subject ? 
To which his lordship answered, That, he did not think himself at all ac- 


countable to the world for his sentiments on religion ; but that he had 
always believed in, and adored one God, the maker of all things ; that 
whatever his notions were, he had never propagated them, or endeavoured 
to gain any person over to his persuasion j that all countries and nations 
had a form of religion by which the people were governed, and that 
whoever disturbed them in it, he looked upon him as an enemy to society ; 
but that, if he himself was wrong in his way of thinking, he was very 
sorry for it. That he very much blamed my Lord Bolingbroke, for per- 
mitting his sentiments on religion to be published to the world. That 
the many sects and disputes which happen about religion, have almost 
turned morality out of doors. That he could never believe what some 
sectaries teach, that faith alone will save mankind ; so that if a man, 
just before he dies, should say only, I believe, that that alone will save 
him ; " Shew me thy faith." Here his lordship stopped ; but by which 
quotation he plainly meant, according to the holy writer, (St. James, 
chap. ii. v. 18.) whose words they are, that faith without works is a dead 

Concerning the unfortunate and much-to-be-lamented Mr. Johnson, 
whose death occasioned the trouble this day, his lordship declared, That 
he was under particular circumstances j that he had met with so many 
crosses and vexations he scarce knew what he did ; and most solemnly 
protested, that he had not the least malice towards him. 

The slowness of the procession made this journey appear so very tedi- 
ous to his lordship, that he often expressed his desire of being got to the 
end of it, saying, that the apparatus of death, and the passing through 
such crowds of people, were ten times worse than death itself ; but upon 
the sheriff's taking notice to his lordship, that he was glad to see that he 
supported himself so well, his lordship replied, I thank you, Sir, I hope I 
shall continue so to the last. 

When his lordship had got to that part of Holborn which is near Drury- 
lane, he said, he was thirsty, and should be glad of a glass of wine and 
water j but upon the sheriff's remonstrating to him, that a stop for that 
purpose would necessarily draw a greater crowd about him, which might 
possibly disturb and incommode him, yet if his lordship still desired it, it 
should be done ; he most readily answered, That's true, I say no more, 
let us by no means stop. 

When they approached near the place of execution, his lordship told 
the sheriff, That there was a person waiting in a coach near there, for 
whom he had a very sincere regard, and of whom he should be glad to 
take his leave before he died j to which the sheriff answered, That if his 
lordship insisted upon it, it should be so ; but that he wished his lord- 
ship, for his own sake, would decline it, lest the sight of a person, for 
whom he had such a regard, should unman him, and disarm him of the forti- 
tude he possessed. To which his lordship, without the least hesitation, 
replied, Sir, if you think I am wrong, I submit ; and upon the sheriff's 
telling his lordship, that if he had any thing to deliver to that person, or 
any one else, he would faithfully do it ; his lordship thereupon delivered 
to the sheriff a pocket-book, in which was a bank-note, and a ring, and a 
purse with some guineas, in order to be delivered to that person, which 
was done accordingly. 

The landau being now advanced to the place of execution, his lordship 
alighted from it, and ascended upon the scaffold, which was covered with 


black baize, with the same composure and fortitude of mind he had en- 
joyed from the time he left the Tower j where, after a short stay, Mr. 
Humphries asked his lordship, if he chose to say prayers ? which he de- 
clined j but upon his asking him. If he did not choose to join with him 
in the Lord's Prayer ? he readily answered, He would, for he always 
thought it a very fine prayer ; upon which they knelt down together 
upon two cushions, covered with black baize, and his lordship with an 
audible voice very devoutly repeated the Lord's Prayer, and afterwards, 
with great energy, the following ejaculation, O God, forgive me all my 
errors, pardon all my sins. 

His lordship then rising, took his leave of the sheriffs and the chaplain j 
and after thanking them for their many civilities, he presented his watch 
to Mr. Sheriff Vaillant, which he desired his acceptance of , and signified 
his desire, that his body might be buried at Breden or Stanton, in 

His lordship then called for the executioner, who immediately came to 
him, and asked him forgiveness ; upon which his lordship said, I freely 
forgive you, as I do all mankind, and hope myself to be forgiven. He 
then intended to give the executioner five guineas, but, by mistake, 
giving it into the hands of the executioner's assistant, an unseasonable 
dispute ensued between those unthinking wretches, which Mr. Sheriff 
Vaillant instantly silenced. 

The executioner then proceeded to do his duty, to which his lordship, 
with great resignation, submitted. His neckcloth being taken off, a 
white cap, which his lordship had brought in his pocket, being put upon 
his head, his arms secured by a black sash from incommoding himself, 
and the cord put round his neck, he advanced by three steps upon an 
elevation in the middle of the scaffold, where part of the floor had been 
raised about eighteen inches higher than the rest ; and standing under 
the cross-beam which went over it, covered with black baize, he asked 
the executioner, Am I right ? Then the cap was drawn over his face : 
and then, upon a signal given by the sheriff (for his lordship, upon being 
before asked, declined to give one himself) that part upon which he 
stood, instantly sunk down from beneath his feet, and left him entirely 
suspended ; but not having sunk down so low as was designed, it was 
immediately pressed down, and levelled with the rest of the floor. 

Fora few seconds his lordship made some struggles against the attacks 
of death, but was soon eased of all pain by the pressure of the execu- 

The time from his lordship's ascending upon the scaffold, until his 
execution, was about eight minutes ; during which his countenance did 
not change, nor his tongue falter : The prospect of death did not at all 
shake the composure of his mind. 

Whatever were his lordship's failings, his behaviour in these his last 
moments, which created a most awful and respectful silence amidst the 
numberless spectators, cannot but make a sensible impression upon every 
human breast. 

The accustomed time of one hour being past, the coffin was raised up, 
with the greater decency to receive the body, and being deposited in the 
hearse, was conveyed by the sheriffs, with the same procession, to Sur- 
geons-Hall, to undergo the remainder of the sentence (viz. dissection). 
Which being done, the body was on Thursday evening, the 8th of May, 
delivered to his friends for interment. 


He was privately interred at St. Pancras near London, in a grave dug 
twelve or fourteen feet deep, under the belfry. 

Pursuant to a distinction in law, peculiarly fine, the Earldom of Ferrers, 
was not forfeited by the attainder for felony, but passed to the convicted 
lord's next brother, Vice Admiral, the Hon. Washington Shirley, who 
consequently became the fifth Earl : his nephew Washington, the eighth 
Earl, was the grandfather, and immediate predecessor of the nobleman 
who now enjoys the title. The reason for the non-forfeiture of the Earl- 
dom of Ferrers lay in the difference between a dignity descendible to 
heirs general, and one that is (as it was) entailed j the former, it seems, 
being absolutely forfeited by the attainder of felony of the person pos- 
sessed of such dignity, while the entailed honour is only forfeited during 
the lifetime of the offender. 

During the interval between sentence, and execution, Earl Ferrers 
made a will, by which he left 1300 to the children of Johnson whom 
he had murdered, 1000 to each of his own four natural daughters, and 
60 a-year to Mrs. Clifford, their mother, who it will be remembered is 
mentioned in the course of the trial as residing with the Earl at the time 
of his offence. This will, however, being made after his conviction, was 
not valid, yet the same provision was allowed to the parties by the un- 
fortunate nobleman's successor. 

The following verse is said to have been found in Earl Ferrers' apart- 
ment in the Tower, after he had quitted it for his last fatal journey. 

In doubt I liv'd, in doubt I die, 

Yet stand prepar'd, the vast abyss to try, 

And undismayed expect eternity. 





IN an old mansion on that part of the beautiful peninsula of Mucruss, where 
the land rises gently from the lakes to the horizon of distant mountains, 
an old gentleman resided with his orphan niece ; he had passed the greater 
part of his life in the army, and had seen much foreign service. Many years 
separation from his country had not weakened his attachments to the land 
of his birth ; he found that land poor, and beautiful as when he left it, and 
its lakes as fresh, and fields as green ; but the loved companions of those 
early haunts, he found them not. The spoiler death had claimed them in 
his absence, and left him on his return a mourning stranger in his own 
country. Sorrow and gloom hung over his spirits, until his attention was 
directed by the clergyman of the parish to his orphan niece, the only child 
of his favourite sister. This young lady had been placed, on the death of 
her parents, in a neighbouring convent, where she remained until her uncle 
took her to his lonely home and heart, where her presence soon shed such 
lights on both, as made the old man young again. 

To the admirers of the grand and picturesque in Nature, the 
Lakes of Killarney present a combination of all that is sublime and beauti- 
ful. Magnificent mountains encircle them, some of which are bare and 
rocky, while others are clothed in wood; numerous islands float on the 
waters islands lovely in eternal verdure, where the sweet-scented arbutus, 
and shining holly cluster round hallowed ruins of antiquity, shading their 
fallen greatness, and embalming their relics in fragrant perfume. The 
tourist, the poet, and the painter, become enthusiasts amidst those magic 
scenes. It is not therefore strange that those who have been familiar with 
them from childhood, should love them with a proud attachment. Such 
was the case with Captain Fitzallan and his fair niece Rose O'Brien. 
Rose was one of those bright beings who seem formed for so pure and lofty 
a region, where Nature presides in all her loveliness amidst her own bold 
and beauteous work. 

The Captain enjoyed many amusements in his rural retirement, as the 
lakes possess a variety of excellent fish, and the mountains and woods 
abound with game. He was a good sportsman, and with his rod or gun, 
he never knew a weary moment ; Rose bestowed social refinements on his 
domestic hours. She was as happy as beautiful, and lived unfettered by 
care or sorrow. Her young heart was as free as the mountain breeze, 
which floated round her from infancy. She shared her uncle's enthusiasm 
for the grand and sublime scenery which surrounded them, and was his con- 
stant companion on the lakes and mountains. Every returning month of 
June, her birthday was celebrated by a rural fete on the beautiful mountain 
of Glena&, a favourite spot with both, for it was covered with the richest 
moss, shadowed by woods of oak, and ash, and planted by Nature's own 
cunning hand, with the loveliest shrubs, forming in truth a Paradise of 
tranquil beauty and repose. The old man loved to call his child the Rose 
of Glenaa, and she was so designated by his friends and household. 
Amongst the many travellers who visited the lakes in the autumn of 1 8 , 


were Edmund Beaumont and his tutor ; the former was the youngest son of 
an aristocratic and wealthy English family, and the best beloved child of a 
doting mother. His tutor, though many years his senior, (for Edmund had 
only completed his twentieth year,) appeared more in the character of a 
companion, than of one in authority ; he certainly interfered but little with 
the amusements or wishes of his young charge, who not a little romantic 
and enthusiastic, often left his friend absorbed in his books, and stole away 
to enjoy the lovely scenery with which he was so enchanted, that he left no 
spot, however difficult of access, unexplored. 

On one of those sweet mellow days in September, when the varied tints of 
autumn lend additional beauty to the wooded mountains, Edmund was 
early on the lakes fishing. After much successful sport, he steered for 
O' Sullivan's cascade, in order to see it to greater advantage after the heavy 
rains of the two preceding days. The fall was magnificent; but not satisfied 
with viewing it in the ordinary way, he determined to ascend the rocks and 
look down on it from above. This fall is situated in a romantic glen between 
the mountains of Glenaa and Toomish. Edmund had just reached the top, 
when two more visitors approached, one of them an old gentleman, with 
a lovely girl leaning on his. arm. They both stood enraptured, gazing on 
the cataract, as it fell with deafening sound down the precipice, dashing its 
white foam from rock to rock, until it reached the basin below, where it 
seemed boiling in angry contact with the large granite stones which vainly 
opposed its passage; The view was one of a grand and sublime character. 
As additional figures to this landscape, two or three wild looking peasant 
girls, barefooted, dark-haired, of sunburnt hue, were gathering nuts from 
the surrounding wood. Our fab: heroine Rose, "the Rose of Glenaa" (for the 
new visitors were her uncle, and herself) formed not the least beauti- 
ful object in the wild scenery. As she stood enraptured, an object caught 
her attention on one of the rocks above the cataract ; it soon became evident 
to her, that a man was in the act of descending, holding by branches of 
trees and low growing shrubs ; it was a perilous undertaking, and she 
scarcely breathed, watching bis movements ; he came, after overcoming many 
difficulties, within ten feet of the ground ; the descent here was still more 
precarious, owing to the rocks and stones, rendered slippery from the spray 
of the waters ; on one of those his feet gave way, and, the branches by which 
he held yielding to his weight, he fell with a heavy splash into the roaring 
torrents. The young man with the instinct of self-preservation, grasped a 
shelving rock to which he clung, but the force of the water was so great, 
that it was evident he could not long remain thus suspended. Rose, who had 
been observing him with deep interest sprang forward in a moment, and 
taking an arm of one of the nut-girls, made her hold by some shrubs, while 
she took her other hand, then lightly stepping on one of the large stones 
which projected into the water, she threw her scarf towards the young man, 
who quickly caught it, and in this way supported him until the boatmen who 
were loitering among the trees came to his assistance. It was soon found 
that he had received but little injury, with the exception of a few bruises, 
and a wet jacket. This ascertained, Rose drew back, and prepared to ac- 
company her uncle to their boats. She deemed the service she had rendered 
the stranger a very simple one, but he viewed it far differently, and in the 
romantic enthusiasm of his disposition, he thanked her in the most fervent 
manner. Perhaps her beauty might have somewhat enhanced his gratitude. 
He begged to know the name of his fair guardian, and presented his card to 
her uncle, requesting permission to call on both the following day. 


Edmund came, and a short time saw him a welcome guest at the old- 
fashioned residence of Captain Fitzallan, whose boat was always in attend- 
ance, as he took a proud pleasure in shewing the varied beauties of the lakes 
(with which he was so familiar) to the young Englishman. Days flew by 
unheeded ; at least the young people marked not their flight, and the old 
man loved to see them happy. 

Edmund believed the fairy tales of his childhood realized amidst those 
scenes of enchantment, and forgot his fond mother and distant home in the 
society of the lovely Irish girl, who in the artless confidence of youth trusted 
her happiness to his keeping, and never for a moment doubted his truth. 
They had exchanged mutual vows of love and constancy. No thought of 
future ill shaded the sweet sunshine of their happiness, which was un ruined 
as the bosom of the lake beneath the summer sky. Tis ever thus in the 
bright and beautiful morning of existence, when every leaf of life is green, 
when generous feelings swell the young heart, still true to nature aye, 
ever thus, before the world with artificial colouring spoils life's fresh- 
ness. Alas ! that sorrow should cloud the brightness of that morning, chill 
those generous feelings, leaving the heart a cheerless desert. Edmund 
and Rose saw not the coming storm that threatened to separate them for 

But we must now transfer the reader to a more distant and more worldly 

There is an air of home-felt comfort and tranquil beauty, about most of 
the English villages : their neat and comfortable cottages where peace and 
plenty seem to dwell ; the pretty churches o'ertopping the hills ; the well 
clad, well fed peasantry all convey an idea of the benign influence, and 
fostering care of good landlords who feel a noble pride in the prosperity of 
their tenants, and wisely deem the protection they extend to them the true 
bond of national union. It is this that reflects such high honour on the 
landed gentry of England, and justly entitles them to the high station they 
hold in then- native land. Near to one of those villages in a rich domain 
rose in proud beauty the mansion of the Beaumonts. The family consisted of 
Mr. Beaumont, his wife, and two sons, the younger of whom was his 
mother's favourite, and our hero of the lakes. 

Mrs. Beaumont was a proud haughty woman of strong feeling and preju- 
dices, and had no idea of any one daring to oppose her will ; she deemed very 
few worthy of aspiring to an alliance with her family, and had often declared 
that her daughters-in-law should boast birth, wealth, and English lineage. 
Edmund from his infancy had been the dearest object of her affections ; 
his personal beauty and strong likeness to herself his sweet disposition and 
manly bearing, enhanced still more her fondness; as he grew up he 
importuned his mother to allow him to enter the army, but from year to year 
she tried to divert his thoughts from a military life, and at the period of 'this 
tale she agreed to his making a little tour, hoping to drive the idea from his 
mind by variety and change of scene. His tutor having consented to accom- 
pany him, Edmund selected Ireland as the country he wished most to visit, and 
though his mother had strong prejudices against the Irish, she did not like 
to oppose him in every thing. This tutor who had some abstruse work in 
hand which he intended publishing, did not much relish the Irish excursion, 
but feared refusing the request made to him of accompanying Edmund, by 
a family who had so much patronage to bestow, and to whom he already 
owed so much ; he determined however, as the event proved, to be as little 
restraint on Edmund as possible. Mr. Laurier, the tutor, when some short 


time at Killarney, found it necessary to go to Dublin, for a few days, in 
order to refer to some books relative to the work he was about publishing-. 
On his return he found Edmund had made a useful acquaintance in the 
person of Captain Fitzallan. So matters rested, and weeks flew on in this way, 
when at length Mr, Laurier thought it time to return to England, and was 
quite astonished at the reluctance Edmund expressed, when the subject was 
mentioned. Strange suspicions began to disturb the tutor's mind, and he de- 
termined to observe his young friend closely ; he laid a&ide his books, and took 
a boat the following morning to Captain Fitzallan's residence, where he was 
hospitably received, and invited to remain the day. It was his first introduc- 
tion to Rose, and he saw at once clearly the cause of Edmund's refusal to re- 
turn home. A pang shot through his heart at the recollection of his own neg- 
lect of the charge committed to his care. The only reparation he could make, 
was to write to Mrs. Beaumont immediately, stating his apprehensions, and 
requesting her to use her authority by recalling her son. Anger and jealousy, 
(yes, jealousy that any one should rival her in her son's affections) filled the 
mother's soul, and she was seized with a fit on reading the letter ; her life was 
in imminent danger, and her medical attendants declared the least opposition 
to her will would prove fatal. Edmund soon after received a letter from his 
father, summoning him immediately home, as his mother was very ill and most 
anxious to see him. The communication, however, suppressed the receipt of 
Mr. Laurier's letter. Edmund who loved his mother fondly, determined to 
obey. But how was he to part Rose, the confiding, artless, lovely girl, and 
her warm-hearted uncle, who treated him with such ingenuous hospitality ? 
He could have passed his life with them on the shore of that beautiful lake. 
When should he meet Rose again? His mother's prejudices, his father's pride, 
would separate them for ever. Could he prevail on her to become his wife, 
he might by that endearing title, claim her hereafter ; his parents would in 
time relent ; seventeen is not the age of prudence, particularly if the blessing 
of maternal guardianship be wanting ; and Rose had never heard a mother's 
warning voice, or known her gentle care. 

Edmund had consented to accompany his tutor the following night in the 
mail which left for Dublin, so that a few hours more and he should part Rose 
perhaps for ever. Yet he, with all the eloquence of love, urged her to 
become his wife before the bitter hour of separation ; he would arrange with 
the clergyman to meet them at the little rustic chapel in the mountains, by 
sun-rise the following morning. It was not very difficult to prevail on one 
so young, so confiding, and inexperienced, to take this imprudent step ; 
Edmund had a powerful, though silent advocate in the pleadings of his 
gentle mistress's heart ; and she at length consented; but no sooner had 
she done so, than she became affrighted at the idea of stealing from her 
uncle's house at that early hour ; and disposing of her heart and hand without 
either his knowledge or consent ; there was ingratitude in the very thought, 
and she shrank tremblingly from it. But Edmund declared "it would 
ruin all their plans if her uncle even suspected them." She knew not how 
to oppose his arguments, but yeilding, she was not happy. And who is ever 
so when deaf to the silent monitor, the small still voice, within the bosom, 
whose dictates of unerring truth lead to present peace, and eternal happiness ? 

The young bride elect rose next morning at break of day ; Nora her faith- 
ful attendant assisted at her simple toilette, and wrapping a cloak round her, 
they both passed out of the house by a back door. The little chapel was 
about half a mile distant in the mountains ; horses were prepared for them 
to ride, and Paddy, the Captain's servant walked beside them. It was a 


grey autumnal morning in the beginning of October. The air was chill, and 
a fresh breeze stirred the waters of the lake. Heavy vapours from the 
Atlantic rested on the summit of the distant mountains. Rose felt the influence 
of the atmosphere, and her heart beat with timid apprehension. When 
they reached the little chapel, Edmund (who was already there) assisted 
her to dismount, and, pressing her hand, whispered words of encouragement. 
In a few moments the party stood within the rural temple, and in the 
presence of the clergyman and their humble followers, Edmund and Rose 
pledged their faith to each other for life. It appeared to Nora a very lone- 
some dismal wedding, and she whispered to Paddy that she observed a 
solitary magpie perch on some heath near the chapel door " a very unlucky 
sign," but she would not mention it to the mistress. Edmund had promised 
to breakfast with Captain Fitzallan on that morning, the last of his visit to 
Killamey; he therefore accompanied his fair bride on her return home. 
The uncle was accustomed to his niece's habit of taking early rides, and 
consequently she knew he would not be alarmed at her absence. The bridal 
party quitted the rustic chapel : as they did so, the sun shone brightly on 
the wild road before them ; the heavy vapours which shrouded the mountains 
were floating fast away ; Rose's spirits revived beneath the smile of Heaven. 
She thought the change auspicious, remembering the old adage " happy the 
bride the sun shines on." 

Rose was received by her unsuspecting uncle with his usual affection. 
He noticed her silence, as she took her place at the breakfast table, but he 
attributed it to the charitable visit he supposed she had been making to some 
poor family that morning. Edmund tried to be gay, but it was an effort. 
The old man looked alternately at each from time to time, until a thought sug- 
gested itself that something unusual affected both, particularly Rose, who eat 
not a morsel. At length he exclaimed, " My children what is the matter ?" 
Rose, looking towards her uncle, found his eyes fixed on her ; their tender 
expression touched the chord of affection in her bosom ; throwing herself 
into his arms she wept like a child : concealment was no longer possible ; 
and all was soon told ! The old man was fully convinced of the great im- 
prudence they were guilty of, but it was foreign to his kind nature to 
reproach those he loved, and how could he blame Edmund for preferring his 
little Rose to all the girls he had ever known ? no one was wrong but 
himself, and he declared he was an old fool not to have foreseen it. Not 
long after this denouement, Mr. Laurier arrived ; his anger and disappoint- 
ment may be imagined when he heard the events of the morning. How 
should he break the news to Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont ? In liis vexation he 
would scarcely speak to Edmund, whom he insisted should accompany him 
at once to Dublin, showing him a letter he had received that day from 
England, with very alarming accounts of his mother's health. Edmund took 
a sad and tender farewell of his youthful bride, vowing eternal fidelity, and 
promising to return the moment his mother was convalescent. 

A few days brought him to his parent's side ; and she welcomed him with 
the fondest affection. Her physicians had ordered change of climate and of 
scene for the restoration of her health, and she declared her intention of 
taking her son with her. This was a deathblow to Edmund's hopes ; he 
avowed his marriage, and his determination to return to Ireland and claim his 
wife. His mother's passions were roused at this intelligence, and she applied 
to her husband to use his authority in breaking the marriage. Her son was 
not of age ; and, according to the laws of England, it was illegal, the cere- 
mony having only been performed by a Catholic clergyman. Every art 


and persuasion were used to make Edmund a party to their wishes, but in 
vain. Nothing therefore remained but to take him abroad, and prevent all 
correspondence between him and "the artful Irish girl," as they called her. 
Accordingly his mother and family removed to Italy. At first, Edmund was 
in a state of irritability and sorrow ; his letters to Ireland were intercepted, 
and those poor Rose wrote never reached him. His mother used all her 
influence (and she had much) to divert his thoughts and affections. She 
required his constant attendance, and introduced him into the best and most 
attractive society ; he was very young, and by degrees he became less un- 
happy, and entered into all the amusements which surrounded him. Rose's 
silence at first pained him to the heart, but insensibly weaned his thoughts 
from her. His military penchant again revived, and he entreated his father 
and mother to get him a commission. Accordingly his father (his mother 

no longer dissenting) wrote to Colonel L r a friend of his in London, to 

procure one for Edmund as soon as possible. At this time they had been 
two years in Italy, and his mother's health quite re-established ; they pre- 
pared to return home. 

But how did the young forsaken wife support the neglect of the faithless 
wanderer ? Had she forgotten him ? Had she ceased to love him ? No ! 
such is not woman's nature. Woman worships to the last the idol of her 
heart, though the beauty of the shrine be fled, leaving it a broken and deserted 
ruin. Day after day, she awaited his promised letters, till at length wearied 
with disappointment her spirits sank ; doubts of Edmund's truth were the last 
to present themselves to her mind, but too soon they did come in all their 
bitterness. Indignation at first swelled her gentle bosom, but tenderness 
and love soon resumed their place, and left her mourning over the past in 
fruitless sorrow. It almost broke her fond uncle's heart to see his sweet 
Rose evidently drooping, her cheek so pale, her eyes dim with tears, the 
music of her voice hushed to silence, her health rapidly declining. She 
was a blighted flower fading away even in the morning of spring. The 
physician (an old friend of her uncle's) whom he called on to attend her, 
could not minister to a mind diseased. He recommended change of air 
and scene as absolutely necessary to arrest, if possible, the malady which 
threatened her. Her uncle had some military friends in Plymouth, and 
thither he purposed going, for a while, and trying the effects of the southern 
climate of England on his beloved child. Those only, who have felt the 
lingering death of hope, and the soul sickening pangs of suspense, can know 
how surely they undermine health and strength. 

The wound poor Rose had received from him she loved, sank festering 
deeply into her bosom. The solitude of her mountain home, and the seclu- 
sion in which she lived, were calculated to preserve in their first freshness the 
tender and confiding feelings of her bosom, which intercourse with the heart- 
less world but too often wither and destroy. Her restoration therefore to 
health and happiness, were beyond the reach of art, which may occasionally 
alleviate suffering, but can never triumph over nature. 

The Beaumont family had been some months re-established in their 
English home, where they were welcomed by their happy prosperous ten- 
antry. Edmund had been gazetted immediately on his return, and his 
military ardour was likely to be put to the test. His regiment in a very 
short time was ordered out to India. His mother was in despair, and urged 
him to sell out, but he would not listen to such a proposal. Fear of the 
Irish connection was ever before his father's mind ; and, of the two, he pre- 
ferred that which in his prejudiced opinion was the lesser evil. All was 


preparation for Edmund's departure ; he took a most affecting and tender 
leave of his family and of his mother in particular, whom he fondly loved. 
He was to join his brother officers at Plymouth, from whence they were to 
sail. The day after his arrival at that port, as he passed through part of 
the town, which commands a view of the sea, his attention was attracted by 
a female figure sitting at a window of one of the houses ; her cheek rested 
on her hand, which thus shaded her face ; but the outline of the head, with 
its drapery of golden ringlets falling round it, and the elegance of the slight 
delicate figure in the stillness of its attitude, reminded him of a face and form 
he once loved in all the pride of health and beauty. His heart throbbed 
at the recollection, and he stood transfixed. Slowly the lady turned to gaze 
on the sea. Oh ! what remorse filled his soul, as the present shadowy like- 
ness of the former fair original met his view. The bright colouring of the 
morning bloom was gone ; the hue of death had replaced it. Alas ! how 
changed ! Yet she was still the same. Edmund's frame trembled ; his brain 
seemed on fire. In the impetuosity of youth, he sought admittance 
to the house, and rushing into the drawing-room where she sat, caught 
the faded form of his deserted wife in his arms, pressing her cold lips, and 
calling her by every endearing title. But she heard him not. Unexpected 
joy is often as oppressive as sorrow. It proved too much for Rose, in her 
delicate state of health, and ere she could pronounce her husband's name 
she had fainted. He rang for assistance : the uncle, and Nora appeared. 

It is vain to attempt describing Edmund's feelings of shame and remorse, 
as he once more met the kind-hearted old captain. He could only say that 
he had come to make reparation for all the sorrow he had caused him, and 
his lovely niece. The old man looking towards her inanimate form, shook 
his head sorrowfully, and the tears trembled on his eye-lids. Nora's resto- 
ratives recalled Rose to consciousness. Her eyes immediately turned to- 
wards Edmund, who knelt beside her. As she met his returning glance of 
affection, she seemed to gain strength. Her physician (who had been sent 
for) and her uncle would not then permit any explanation likely to excite 
her, but in a few days all was told, and Edmund forgiven. In her uncle's 
presence, he and Rose were again united, according to the rites of the 
Church of England, and the young husband determined that nothing but 
death should again separate them. Yet, how could she undergo all the 
difficulties of a long voyage, in her precarious state of health ? The troops 
were under sailing orders in a few days, and he must accompany them. How 
leave her ? The physicians declared it might cost her life to take her to sea, 
in her very weak state, and at that time of the year. Edmund could not 
oppose them. He and poor Rose were again doomed to part, but it was 
arranged that she should follow in the latter end of May, three months 
after his departure, under the protection of an experienced captain and his 
wife. As long as Edmund remained, Rose seemed to improve in health. 
The lustre of her eye brightened ; the colour on her cheek returned in greater 
loveliness ; but darkness was beneath that light, and death beneath that 
bloom. Treacherous consumption ever cheating the hopes of love, preyed 
on the young victim, while decking her with beauty for the grave. 

Edmund was at length forced to go, and after the sad parting, hope still 
fluttered in the young wife's bosom, sustaining her fast fleeting existence. 
Her uncle promised to follow her and Edmund to India, but was now 
obliged to return to Ireland in order to dispose of his property. He there- 
fore, on a beautiful morning in the latter end of May, committed his beloved 
child to the protection of the captain and his wife, who promised to consider 



her as their own, until they restored her to her husband. Poor Rose for 
some time seemed to revive, under the influence of the sea air and voyage, 
and her kind friends began to trust she might recover ; but it was a false 
hope. By degrees she daily grew weaker. One lovely evening in the middle 
of June, they carried her to a sofa placed for her on deck. She had been 
more than usually weak that day, and they hoped the freshness of the 
evening breeze might revive her. The captain's wife took a seat by her 
side. Her breathing was short and hurried, yet she did not appear to suffer 
much. The sun was just then setting, the horizon appeared on fire lit up by 
its golden rays. As it sank to rest on the waters, Rose raised herself with 
much difficulty from her reclining posture to gaze for a moment on its part- 
ing light, which she had ever loved to contemplate, when it beamed at sum- 
mer eve on all the matchless beauties of her distant home. The efforts, or 
the feelings uVexcited, proved too much for her, and she fell back exhausted 
on the couch : it was soon evident to her anxious friends, that the tide of life 
was fast ebbing from her bosom. She looked expressively at them, then 
raising her eyes to Heaven, and breathing a fervent prayer, the stillness of 
death stole over her lovely features, proclaiming too truly that life's short 
voyage was at an end. The bright sun had set on her for ever. No church 
bell tolled for her, no prayers were chaunted. The cold ocean was her 
grave; the wild cry of the sea birds was her funeral dirge, and the morning 
breeze, as it crested the wave, breathed a requiem to her departed spirit. 
One year after this sad event, and the Beaumont family mourned the death 
of their youngest son. He had fallen in the service of his country. 

Captain Fitzallan survived his beloved niece but a few months ; he sleeps 
amidst the beautiful ruins of Mucruss Abbey. 


HENRY the Eighth wrote a strong hand, but as if he had seldom a good 
pen. " The vehemence of his character," says D'Israeli, " convey itself 
into his writing; bold, hasty, and commanding'. I have no doubt that the 
assertor of the Pope's supremacy, and its redoubted opponent, split many a 
good quill." The autograph of the mild and feminine Edward VI. is fair, 
flowing, and legible ; and that of Queen Elibabeth, stiff, firm, arid elabo- 
rate, written in a large, tall character, and with very upright letters, 
denoting asperity and ostentation. Her ill-fated sister queen, poor Mary 
Stuart, wrote elegantly, though usually in uneven lines ; in a style indica- 
tive of simplicity, softness, and amiability. James I. wrote an ungainly 
scrawl, all awry, and careless ; strongly marking the personal negligence he 
carried into all the affairs of life. The first Charles's was a fair, open, 
Italian hand, most correctly formed ; and his successor, the witty monarch's 
volatile, heedless, restless character, is not incorrectly exhibited in his little 
pretty running hand, scribbled, as it were, in haste and impatience. The 
phlegmatic temper and matter- of-business habits of James II. are evinced 
in his large commercial autograph; and Queen Anne's commonplace 
character, in her good, commonplace handwriting. 



Castle Coole, co. 

THIS noble residence of the Earls of Belmore is about a mile distant 
from Enniskillen, on the banks of the fair Lake Erne. The approach 
from the town affords a fine prospect of a picturesque sheet of water, 
studded with a vast number of islands all of them green, and many of 
sufficient size to afford pasturage to flocks and herds. I know no part 
of Ireland more interesting than this country. In scenery, in historical 
fame, and modern improvement, it rivals every country in Europe. Mr. 
and Mrs. Hall, in their work on Ireland, must be regarded as good 
judges, having seen and observed closely almost the whole of the United 
Kingdom, and, speaking of this locality, remark, " It is, however, to the 
grace and grandeur of Nature that we desire to direct the attention of 
our readers. Travel where they will, in this singularly beautiful neigh- 
bourhood, lovers of the picturesque will have rare treats at every step. 
It is impossible to exaggerate in describing the surpassing loveliness of 
the whole locality. How many thousands there are, who, if just ideas 
could be conveyed to them of its attractions, would make their annual 
tour hither instead of up the " hackneyed and sodden Rhine," infinitely 
less rich in natural graces, far inferior in the studies of character it yields, 
and much less abundant in all the enjoyments that can recompense the 
traveller ! Nothing in Great Britain perhaps nothing in Europe can 
surpass in beauty the view along the road that leads into Enniskillen. 
Now, without drawing any invidious comparison between Lough Erne and 
the Rhine, I must say that I think it a shame so many of our Irish tourists 
will, year after year, betake themselves abroad, leaving unknown and un- 
noticed the equally charming natural beauties of their own green Isle. Is 
it because it is their own they despise it ? How true the remark " What 
we have we prize not at its worth," and no stronger instance exists than 
the fact of Lough Erne, the Blackwater in Munster, and other scenes, 
the subject of delight and encomium to the strangers who visit them 
from other lands, being hardly known as places worth the trouble of 
looking at to the inhabitants of Ireland, and seldom sought by the tourist. 
Let it be our pleasing task to call attention to these neglected scenes 
to guide the native footstep thither to awaken an interest for Ireland 
in the breasts of Irishmen of all shades and classes, and make them at 
length feel they have a common country, and as we are essentially an 
aristocratic people, no where can this be so appropriately carried out 
than in the pages of the Patrician. 

Castle Coole is a mansion of regular uniform style. The elegance of 
the design, the scale of magnificence observed in the internal arrange- 
ments, and the singular beauty of its surrounding scenery, must render 
it an object of admiration to every age. The house consists of a square 
centre with extensive wings, along the centre of which runs a facade 
supported by Tastun pillars, and the whole being of Portland stone be- 

E 2 


speak the pure and elegant simplicity which marked the designs of Pa- 
ladio. A graceful approach leads nearly round the mansion, and as it 
traverses the wide spread lawns, rich and varied plantations meet the 
sight. The park is profusely supplied with trees, some dotting the verdant 
mead in single piles, others grouped in clumps. Numerous lakes, some of 
great extent bearing wooded islets on their grassy bosoms, diversify tree 
and field. I never witnessed a greater profusion of water fowl; birds of 
every kind that haunt the stream held revelry as I passed. The offices, 
also faced with Portland stone, form a neat and well ordered quadrangle 
not far from the mansion. The view from the hall door looking over a 
great extent of country, is one scene of striking and enchanting loveli- 

The family is of Scottish extraction. John Lowry, a native of Scot- 
land, having emigrated to this part of the British dominions towards the 
close of the 17th century settled at Ahenis in the county Tyrone.. As 
might have been expected he took part with the supporters of William 
of Nassau, during the civil wars of 1688 9, and had the misfortune to 
lose his wife during the dreadful privations which the garrison, besieged 
within the walls of Londonderry, experienced. Several of his descend- 
ants represented the county Tyrone in the Irish House of Commons, and, 
on 6th January 1781, Armar Lowry, Esq. M.P., was elevated to the 
Peerage of Ireland as Baron Belmore of Castle Coole, on which occa- 
sion he assumed the name and arms of Corry. Another branch of this 
family is seated at Pomeroy House, represented by Robert William 
Lowry, Esq.* The Earldom of Belmore was conferred by creation 5th 
Nov. 1797. The present earl is a minor, having lately succeeded his la- 
mented father. 

Before leaving Enniskillen, 1 paid a visit to a very astonishing island 
in Lake Erne Devenish or Daim Inis, signifying the Island of the Ox, 
in Latin it was called Bovis Insula, I conclude from the number of 
these animals that were accustomed to browse on the grass which grows 
so luxuriantly. It contains about eighty acres, and was the chosen seat 
of religion and learning in days of yore. The first abbey is said to have 
been founded here as early as A.D. 563 by St. Laserian. The Danes 
frequently plundered the monastery. Over the altar of the church is a 
richly ornamented window, and near it on a tablet built in the wall is the 
following inscription in very rude raised characters. 

Mattheus O'Dubigan hoc opus fecit 

Bartholameo O'Flanagan Priori de Daminio 1449. - 

The O'Flanagans Lords of Tura Tuath Ratha, i.e. the District of 
the Fortress, had considerable possessions along the borders of Lake Erne, 
comprising at one time, the whole of the present Barony of Maghero- 
boy, but sharing the fortunes of their chief king and kinsman, Maguire 
Prince of Fermanagh, lost the whole of those estates by repeated con- 
fiscations. On the Island of Devenish is one of the most perfect round 
towers It is built of hewn stone, each about a foot square. The 
conical roof having been endangered by a small tree growing out of the 
slight interstices, caused some repairs requisite which were executed with 
great skill, and this memento of the days of old restored to its pristine 

* Burke's Commoners, vol. iii. p. 140. 


Btlfmtnp Castle. 

How full of solemn feudality is Kilkenny Castle ! Striking at once both 
mental and bodily vision, for its site is not only majestic and grand, 
loftily towering over 

The stubborn Neure, whose waters grey 
By fair Kilkenny and Ross-ponte borde, 

but the venerable walls, and antique bastions speak of historical associa- 
tions with which they are intimately connected, and the interest is excited 
by the magnitude of the incidents which occurred here. 

It dates with the arrival of the English in this country, and, though 
the revolution of ages have effected changes in the possessions, and re- 
cent improvements and alterations have swept away traces of the honour- 
able wounds which the implements of war, and time dealt on the fortress, 
legend, and ballad, and chronicle has preserved its history. The original 
castle is said to have been built by Strongbow, and subsequently de- 
stroyed by the Irish shortly after its erection ; but the place was deemed 
too important to be left defenceless, for we find in A.D. 1 1Q5, a spacious and 
noble castle arose from the ruins. In a military point of view, (no trifling 
object in those days) the situation was most eligible. The castle was 
built on a lofty mound, one side steep and precipitous, with the rushing 
Nore sweeping round its base. To this natural rampart was added a 
wall of solid masonry, forty feet high. The other parts were defended 
by bastions, curtains, towers, and outworks. The area thus inclosed 
contained the donjon and main keep, inhabited by the distinguished owner 
William, Lord Marshal, Earl of Pembroke, and a caserne for a strong 
garrison. In 1391 it came by purchase into the present noble family- 
having been bought by James Butler, third Earl of Ormond, a descendant 
of Theobald Walter, a great favourite of Henry II., who made him large 
grants in his newly acquired Irish territory. He filled the office of Chief 
Butler of Ireland, which became hereditary, and the surname of the 
family. As our space would not admit our dwelling on the numerous 
important events which these walls have witnessed, as indeed few Chap- 
ters of the History of Ireland omit some record of transactions in which 
Kilkenny Castle bears a part, we proceed to give a brief notice of its 
present appearance. 

Its situation, close by the Nore, is of extreme beauty. The elevation 
is considerable and affords an extensive view, as the castle overlooks the 
city, and the sight can follow the windings of the river, through many a 
verdant meadow, shady grove, and well- planted lawn. The river is 
clear and bright, and the city has the advantage of permitting an uninter- 
rupted prospect, boasting of water without mud, air without fog, and 
fire without smoke. So that when the eye is sated with gazing on the 
reaches of the clear sparkling river, now glancing along fair meadowy 
niches, and anon lost between high wooded banks, it can wander over 
spire and gable of the city, and here wrapt in the quiet of the lordly 
dwelling, the visitor listens to the hum of the busy- bustling crowd, who 
urge their laborious callings in every variety of city life. 

The castle is approached from the town, and a long range of offices 


are on the right hand. Neither the style of architecture in which they 
are built, nor the entrance, is in accordance with the rest of the castle. 
This is the more striking from the proximity to the venerable walls. 
The recent buildings are in the best taste, and well executed. Some 
basso-relievos are finely sculptured. We went through many of the 
rooms not remarkable of size, but convenient and affording pleasing 
views of the country round. There has, however, been recently com- 
pleted, a splendid picture gallery, about 150 feet in length. This con- 
tains a great collection of paintings. The belles, the wits, the courtiers, 
and courtezans of the Merry Monarch are here congregated, and the 
sight is dazzled by the gorgeous blaze of beauty, and dress, depicted by 
Sir Peter Lely and Sir Godfry Kneller, until the weariness of excess of 
glare is relieved by the sober colouring of Vandyke, or the religious ten- 
derness of Carlo Dolci. Here are kings and Queens in all their pomp, 
King Charles I. and his unhappy queen ;^King Charles II., King James 
II., Queen Mary, Queen Anne, Royal Family, by Vandyke, Duchess of 
Richmond, by Sir Godfry Kneller, with portraits of various members of 
the Ormond family, scripture pieces, landscapes, flowers, mingled with 
saints and sinners, gay knights and grave senators, a motly and distin- 
guished array. What food for meditation is here for the imaginative mind ? 
What tales these silent beings could tell were the canvass animated ? 
Here are kings who, during their career on earth, experienced all the 
vicissitudes of fortune, the privations that afflict the meanest subject, 
hunger and poverty, and terror of enemies, and loss of friends and for- 
tune. One was exiled, another dethroned, another beheaded. Here are 
youthful beauties radiant in smiles and charms, who lived till these 
smiles ceased to captivate, and these charms to win admiration. What 
feelings are aroused by the sad fate of many a proud noble here standing 
clad in his peer's robes. The battle field witnessed the death throes of 
some, the sod of a foreign land covered the bones of others. And now 
their fame and their fate lives but in the vague legend and a few feet of 
painted canvass. I lingered amidst these frail memorials of greatness 
until the shadows of evening deepened the gloom of the old towers. 
The sun sank gorgeously into a cradle of golden rays, pillowed by downy 
clouds of dazzling whiteness. The Nore hymned a vesper song as the 
stars shone out, and the hour was meet for reminiscences of the past. 
There floated before us visions of the former owners, the Anglo-Norman 
invaders, the fierce conflicts with the Irish Chiefs, the rivalry between the 
Butlers andFitz Geralds of- Desmond; the feuds that existed between these 
Irish Guelphs and Ghibellins are celebrated in the annals of Ireland. 
Once we are told a reconciliation was effected, and the leaders agreed to 
shake hands j but they took the precaution of doing so through an aper- 
ture in an oaken door, each fearing to be poniarded by the other ! After 
the battle of Affane, on the banks of the Blackwater, the Fitz Geralds 
were repulsed, and their chieftain" made prisoner. While weak from loss 
of blood, the victors were bearing him on their shoulders, and the Lord 
of Ormond triumphantly exclaimed " Where now is the great Earl of 
Desmond ?" " Here," replied the Lord Gerald, " now in his proper 
place, still on the necks of the Butlers." 

" The antiquity of this family," says Burke,* " is indisputable } but 
whence it immediately derived its origin is not so clearly established. Its 

* Peerage. 


surname however, admits of no doubt as springing from the chief butler- 
age of Ireland, conferred by Henry II. on Theobold Fitzwalter in 117?." 
We find various descendants of Theobold sitting in the Parliaments of the 
Pale, and filling high offices, Lords Justices, &c. The Earldom of 
Ormond was granted to James Butler in 1328, by creation of King Ed- 
ward III. James, third Earl, purchased the Castle of Kilkenny from the 
heirs of Sir Hugh le de Spencer, Earl of Gloucester in 1391, which has 
since been the principal seat of this family. The representatives of the 
House of Ormond were not alone distinguished by their pride of ancestry 
and martial deeds. Many of the Earls of Ormond were famed for a love 
of literature and extent of learning, quite remarkable in their time. We 
need not refer to higher authority than the compliment Edward IV. 
paid to the demeanour and conduct of John, the sixth Earl. " If good 
breeding and liberal qualities were lost in the world, they might be all 
found in the Earl of Ormonde." In a note to Hall's Ireland, vol. ii., is a 
curious letter stated to have been the reply of a very loyal man, Sir Piers 
Butler, Earl of Ossory, in answer to a proposal of the Earl of Kildare, 
that the two houses should unite their forces, take Ireland from the 
dominion of Henry VIII., and divide it between them. The Earl of 
Kildare to have one moiety, Earl of Ossory and his son Lord James 
Butler the other. " Taking pen in hand to write to you my absolute 
answer, I muse in the first line by what name to call you my lord, or 
my cousin, seeing that your notorious treason hath impeached your 
loyalty and honour, and your desperate lewdness hath shamed your 
kindred. You are, by your expressions, so liberal in parting stakes with 
me, that a man would weene you had no right to the game j" and so im- 
portunate for my company, as if you would persuade me to hang with 
you for good-fellowship. And think you, that James is so bad as to 
gape for gudgeons, or so ungracious as to sell his truth and loyalty for 
a piece of Ireland ? Were it so (as it cannot be) that the chickens you 
reckon were both hatched and feathered ; yet be thou sure, I had rather 
in this quarrel die thine enemy than live thy partner. For the kindness 
you proffer me, and goodwill, in the end of your letter, the best way I 
can propose to requite you, that is, in advising you, though you have 
fetched your fence, yet to look well before you leap over. Ignorance, 
error, and a mistake of duty hath carried you unawares to this folly, not 
yet so rank, but it may be cured. The king is a vessel of mercy and 
bounty j your words against his majesty shall not be counted malicious, 
but only bulked out of heat and impotency ; except yourself by heaping 
of offences discover a mischievous and wilful meaning. Farewell." 

The descendants of so straightforward a subject should partake of his 
spirit, and a hatred of court favourites appears a distinguishing feature 
in the characters of the Butlers. In Carte's life of the Duke of Ormond, 
we find the hostility of the Earl Thomas to Queen Elizabeth's minion, 
the Earl of Leicester, not confined to language. He used often tell her 
Majesty in plain terms that Leicester was a villain and a coward. Com- 
ing one day to Court he met Leicester in the anti-chamber who bidding 
him good-morrow said, "My lord of Ormonde, I dreamed of you last 
night." " What could you dream of me ?" asked Ormonde. " I dreamed," 
says the other, " that I gave you a box on the ear." "Dreams," an- 
swered the Earl, "are to be interpreted by contraries j" and, without 
more ceremony, gave Leicester a hearty cuff on the ear. He was upon 
this sent to the Tower, but shortly after liberated. 


The next instance of courage which tradition preserves, is related of 
James, afterwards Duke of Ormond, while yet a very young man about 
twenty-two years of age. He went to attend the Parliament in Dublin sum- 
moned by Wentworth, Lord Lieutenant to Charles I. The Lord Deputy 
had issued a proclamation forbidding any member of either house to enter 
with his sword. As the Earl of Ormond was passing the door of the 
House of Peers, the Usher of the Black Rod required his sword. The 
request being treated with silent contempt. He demanded it peremptorily, 
whereupon the Earl replied, "If he had his sword, it should be in his body, 
and haughtily strode to his seat. The Lord Deputy summoned the re- 
fractory Peer before the Privy Council, and called on him to answer for 
his conduct : upon which, Lord Ormond said he acted under the oath of 
his investiture, that he received his title to attend Parliament cum gladio 
cinatus." The ability and courage of the young noble obtained him great 
applause, and the Deputy perceived he had better conciliate his friend- 
ship, than provoke his enmity. He accordingly heaped favours upon 
him ; made him a Privy Councillor at the age of twenty-five. This lord 
was the father of one of the purest characters of that, or any age the Earl 
of Ossory. Of him was it truly said " His virtue was unspotted in the 
centre of a luxurious court j his integrity unblemished amid all the vices 
of the times j his honour intainted through the course of his whole life." 
" His Majesty," exclaimed Evelyn, on hearing of his death, " never lost 
a worthier subject, nor father a better or more dutiful son : a loving, 
generous, good natured and perfectly obliging friend one who had done 
innumerable kindnesses to several before they knew it j nor did he ever 
advance any who were not worthy j no one more brave, more modest j 
none more humble, sober, and every way virtuous. Unhappy England ! 
in this illustrious person's loss. What shall I add ? He deserves all 
that a sincere friend, a brave soldier, a virtuous courtier, a loyal subject, 
an honest man, a bountiful master, and a good Christian, could deserve 
of his prince and country." 

How affecting to turn from this fine panegyric, traced by the hand 
of generous friendship, revealing the peculiar excellent qualities of the 
deceased, and particularising each, to the passionate burst of grief j 
in which the bereaved Duke must have indulged, when the heir of his 
house lay a corpse before him ; and what depth of feeling and sublime 
appreciation of the inestimable loss is contained in his reply to some ex- 
pression of condolence " I would not exchange my dead son for any 
living son in Christendom." Surely, such an instance of genuine regard for 
the illustrious dead must be remembered with pride by their descendants ! 
How well the Earl of Ossory deserved the praise bestowed on him, and 
the universal grief felt at his death, may be seen from the following 
anecdote, which exhibits, strong filial piety and fearlessness of Court 
favourites which the King's presence could not restrain. Not long after 
the celebrated attempt of Blood to kill the Duke of Ormond, in which he 
had nearly succeeded, being on his way with him to Tyburn, where he 
resolved the Duke should hang, when he was rescued, the Earl of Ossory 
met the Duke of Buckingham, who was universally beloved, the instiga- 
tor and protector of Blood, in the royal chamber, and thus addressed him 
while behind the King's chair. " My lord, I know well that you are at 
the bottom of this late attempt of Blood's upon my father j and therefore I 
give you fair warning, if my father comes to a violent death by sword or 
pistol, if he does by the hand of a ruffian, or the more secret way of poison, 


I shall not be at a loss to know the real author of it. I shall consider 
you as the assassin, I shall treat you as such, and I shall pistol you, though 
you stood behind the King's chair ; and I tell it you in his Majesty's 
presence, that you may be sure I will keep my word." 

But we must bid adieu to this noble house. The present Marquis, 
born in 1808, came to the title on the death of his father in 1 838 j he 
is married to a daughter of General, the Hon. Sir Edward Paget, G.C.B. , 
and it is to his taste and perseverance the Castle of Kilkenny owes its 
improved condition. We might suggest an alteration in the entrance, to 
preserve the harmony of the structure, which is unquestionably one of 
the most striking of our Irish Castles and Mansions. 



Hush ! hush ! green forest, cease to pour 

Thy murmurs on mine ear : 
Thy voice, which I may hear no more, 
Speaks sadly of the days of yore, 

Troubling my wandering thoughts with fear ; 
And on the morrow I must stand 
Before the mighty Tzar, with blood-stain'd hand ! 

The terrible Tzar will say to me, 

" Answer me well, my child ! 
And be thy heart from terror free 
Son of a peasant ! tell to me, 

Who in the forest lone and wild, 
Were joined with thee in lawless strife, 
The chosen comrades of thy robber-life ?" 

And I will answer, " mighty Tzar ! 

The truth now deign to know : 
Companions four had I, O Tzar ! 
The darksome night my scimitar 

My trusty steed my bended bow 
These were my four companions, Sire ; 
My messengers darts hardened in the fire !" 

Then will the Christian Tzar reply : 

" Honour to thee, my son ! 
Who brav'st the law so fearfully, 
Yet know'st to speak so craftily : 

A high reward well hast thou won, 
For lo ! a palace waits thee on the plain 
A stately gibbet, and a hempen chain !" 





FRANCE perhaps, even more than other nations which can boast of ages 
of civilization and greatness, has among its people, large and important 
bodies who cling with unalterable devotion to the feelings, manners and 
customs, of distinct and different periods. Thus do the advocates of 
the dethroned house of Bourbon invariably adopt the style and senti- 
ment which characterised the courts of Louis the Great, and his un- 
fortunate descendants. Thus too, there are many who to this day, in 
sorrow be it said, assume the bearing, and ape the antics of the hideous 
French republic. How dearly also do the JBonapartists attach themselves 
to the pompous fashion and grandiloquent tone of their brief, but mag- 
nificent empire ; for, with them, 

Caesar, thou art mighty yet : 
Thy spirit walks abroad. 

It is rather singular that the classic drama happens to be alike accept- 
able to royalist, republican, and imperialist. The supporter of the 
ancient regime fondly cherishes the school formed by the Corneilles and 
Racines of his boasted Ludovican age. The Girondist, or Terrorist, 
regards the classic stage as the best means of bringing to present and 
perspicuous view, the form and features of those Greek and Roman 
commonwealths, which the revolutionary party so viciously, and miser- 
ably endeavoured to copy. Again, the theatres of ancient Greece and 
Rome were in accordance with the amplified state and proud existence 
of a conqueror, whose models were Caesar and Alexander. Indeed, 
during the continuance of Napoleon's sway, the classic drama was so 
popular, that the taste went to excess, and plays became the mere 
vehicles of cold, tedious and bombastic declamation. The Romantic 
school therefore had to contend against the fixed prejudices of these 
three parties, which it could never overcome. Its eminent success 
was with the rest of the people j but the classic drama still retained 
its hold upon a portion of the public. There were authors who wrote 
for it, and audiences who came to applaud it. Yet it would probably 
have followed the political decline of its favourers, and have sunk into 
very infrequent representation, or entire disuse, but for the appearance 
of an actress whose great genius has effected, for a time, the complete 
restoration of the classic stage. Mile. Rachel has revived Corneille, 
and Racine, and rendered popular their modern imitators. This heroine 
of the Theatre Franais resembles in personal dignity and grace, the 
master statues of antiquity : her mind is also with the ancients. Sub- 
dued by her wondrous art, the romancists themselves come once more 
to contemplate and to sympathize with the sorrows of Andromache, or 
the wrongs of the sister of Horatius. The writings of the classic drama 
are again in the ascendant. Among the more modern classic authors, 
the principal of later, or actual existence, are Laharpe, Chenier,Lemercier, 


Ducis, Delavigne, Guiraud, Soumet and Latour. The "Philoctete" 
of Laharpe is a scholar-like and faithful imitation of a Grecian play. 
The Sieurs Chenier and Lemercier, (the latter afterwards deserted the 
classic cause) are eminent as poets, but as dramatists are now little 
thought of ; their works, such as " Tiberius," " Clovis," " Agamemnon," 
are not, we believe, patronized by Mile. Rachel. Guiraud is the author 
of the tragedies of " Les Machabees," and " Compte Julien,*' and others 
of more than passing merit. Ducis converted the plays of Shakespeare 
into classic dramas, and mainly owed his success to the acting of Talma. 
The reputation of Casimir De La Vigne is too well established to allow 
his works to be passed over, without more comment and consideration. 
M. De La Vigne is really a fine poet, and his writings frequently display 
much of elegant diction, and exquisite pathos. Unlike his romantic 
rivals, he never verges beyond the bounds of purity and propriety ; 
indeed this is a virtue common to most authors of his school. De 
La Vigne's four great tragedies, are " Don Juan d'Autriche," " Les En- 
fans d'Edouard," " Les Vepres Siciliennes," and "Le Paria." We prefer 
the two latter, and therefore would especially notice them. " Les Vepres 
Siciliennes," as its name announces, takes for plot that terrible massacre 
and extermination of the French, which occurred at Palermo, in 1282, 
and which has obtained the appellation of "The Sicilian Vespers." 
The famous John of Procida, the instigator of the revolt, is introduced 
upon the scene, and his stern and determined character is well pourtrayed. 
The nature of the subject is however, little suited to the unity of time 
and place which a classic dramatist is obliged to observe. Instead of 
having, as in a Shakesperian play, the events of the fearful insurrection 
vividly presented to the audience, the story entirely depends on the 
descriptive accounts given by the various persons of the drama. Some 
of these narratives are, however, told with spirit, especially that of the 
heroine's confidant, Elfrida, who has witnessed the commencement of 
the massacre in the church of Palermo. Her relation is as follows j but 
of course the reader must make due allowance for the injury done to the 
original verse, by a translation into English prose. 

Elfrida. " I slowly ascended the steps of the sanctuary, still strewed 
with flowers and sacred branches. The people, prostrated under those 
ancient arches, had begun to sing; the psalms of the prophet-king, when 
a terrible sound shook the temple. The doors moved suddenly on their 
hinges. They opened. Aged men, distracted women, priests and 
soldiers who besieged the outlets, the former pursued, the latter threaten- 
ing, the whole rushing against each other, burst over the threshold in 
multitudes. From mouth to mouth, fly the words ' War to Tyrants.' 
Priests repeat them with a savage look : children even respond. I 
wish to fly, but suddenly this increasing torrent closes the path. Our 
conquerors, whom a profane and rash love had to their destruction 
assembled at the foot of the sanctuary, calm though surprised, hear, with- 
out fear, the tumultuous cries of the enraged mob. Their swords glitter ; 
numbers increase their courage. A cavalier rushes forward, opens a 
passage ; he advances with precipitation. All yield to the strength of his 
arm : the dispersed ranks make way for him. He offers himself to their 
blows, without helmet or armour. ' It is Montfort/ they cry. To that 
shout succeeded u long murmur. ' Aye, traitors/ he exclaimed, ' my name 
alone, is a barrier to you. Fly from hence !' He spoke thus indignant 
pale with wrath, and waved in the air his formidable sword, still reeking 


with the blood in which he had steeped it he strikes at the mob. An 
emissary from the Divinity would have seemed less terrible to the 
affrighted people. But Procida appears, and the stupified multitude 
reassured by his voice, precipitate themselves forward, and surround 
Montford. Loredan forced on by the parental authority of Procida, fol- 
lows him speechless with dismay. I saw our citizens, worked up by 
their fury, massacre each other, and they did so in the name of their 
country; I even heard the priest, as he stumbled over the ruins made by 
the havoc, a cross in his hand, utter curses, while he slew. The cries of 
the victors and the vanquished, are confounded together ; the echoes from 
subterranean tombs respond. The fate of the conflict still rests in suspense, 
when night overshadows us with its wings of darkness. I lose my 
way among the assassins, and in uncertainty I seek the palace. I pro- 
ceed stealthily. Oh ! what heaps of dead and dying ! Is another day 
to cast its light over that horrible picture ? May the sun avoid us. May 
this sanguinary night hide from the whole world, the crimes it has en- 

The "Paria 1 ' is among the most popular of M. de laVigne's plays, 
and is, we think, his most graceful production. The scene of this tragedy 
is at Benares in India, among the Bramins. The story is this : 

Idamoro, one of the outcast people called Parias, has quitted, in search 
of worldly adventure and advancement, his father, by whom he is ten- 
derly beloved. He becomes a great warrior with the Bramin nation, 
and their leader in a hundred victorious battles. The fact of his being 
a Paria is unknown to them, and their high priest Akbar resolves to give 
him for wife his daughter, Neala, whose affection Idamoro has already 
secretly won. Unwilling to deceive his mistress, when about to wed 
her, Idamoro announces to her his belonging to a tribe that is accursed. 
She is at first horrified, but her love at length prevails, and she still 
consents to espouse him. As the nuptials are about to take place, 
Idamoro's aged father, Zares, comes in search of his long lost son : he 
discovers him in the successful conqueror, and implores him to return 
with him to their own country,[to prevent his dying of grief. Idamoro 
promises to do so, but unable to quit his bride, he delays and permits 
the wedding to proceed, on Ne*ala's agreeing to fly with them when it is 
over. In the mean time Zares is recognized as a Paria, is seized, and 
about to be put to death, when Idamoro declares himself a Paria also, and 
offers himself in the place of his father as a greater victim. The indig- 
nant and enraged Bramins accept the proposal. Idamoro is led to 
execution, but, while on the way thither, he and his constant companion 
Alvar, a Portuguese Christian, whom he has captured, and made his de- 
voted friend, are stoned to death by the people. Ne*ala, on hearing his 
fate avows her previous knowledge of his being a Paria, and she is sen- 
tenced to banishment : she departs with the aged Zares, whom she 
determines to accompany to his own home in lieu of the son he has lost. 

The whole of this tragedy is very skilfully constructed, according to 
classic rules. The language is throughout poetic, and some parts dis- 
play great spirit and harmony. The deaths of Idamoro and his Christian 
friend Alvar, are finely described : the following is the literal translation 
of the passage. 


"The people rush forward to demand their prey, mingling cries of fury 
with shouts of joy. Idamoro appears haughty, yet his look is serene j 
he divides the crowd, walks majestically among them, and seems still to 
lead us, and to exhibit within our walls, as in the days of his glory, the 
pride of victory. His friend, that captive foeman tolerated amongst us 
as long as the unworthy chieftain himself beheld us at his feet the 
Christian Alvar, who awaited him, rushes to his side. We take our 
ranks in mournful silence, whilst the Christian, prolonging his adieux, 
importuned our looks with a scene of blameable compassion. As to 
Idamoro, the very last accents of his sacrilegious voice braved, as he 
walked, the procession that led him to his death. 'Hasten!' he ex- 
claimed, ' what Bramin, or what warrior reserves to himself the honour 
of striking me the first ?' When he passed near the spot where from 
the height of our walls his armed hand had sent death amongst our foes ; 
' Choose for my place of slaughter/ he cried, ' these rocks with which 
I used to crush your terror-struck enemies.' The people waxes in- 
dignant at the taunt. In their prompt justice they meditate and adopt 
a second punishment for this new offence. Their irritation increases as 
they proceed, and they prelude with insults the massacre of Alvar. 
Idamoro stops when he hears their menacing voices. The bravest recoil 
with terror 5 when, from all directions a thousand avenging arms hurl 
upon him the fragments of stone that lie scattered in the dust. A 
perfect cloud of missiles arises : it breaks and bursts forth with loud 
din and tempestuous force upon his breast, and around his head. Ida- 
moro protects his friend, embraces him, and opposes in vain his bosom 
and his arm against the blow intended for Alvar. The meek Christian 
who prays while he falls, fixed an eye of love on the cross, the powerless 
symbol of his idolatry, invokes it, and, his countenance radiant with hope, 
drops at the feet of Idamoro, while pointing out the heavens to his friend. 
The insensate Idamoro now standing alone, weak and nearly lifeless, 
still fronts us amid the storm, with a brow of defiance he still proteots 
Alvar, then grows faint falls overcome, and while dying covers with 
his own mutilated body the corpse of his friend." 

Alexander Soumet, a thorough poet in tone and thought has 
written some superb classic dramas : among others may be men- 
tioned "Cleopatra," "Norma," " Clytemnestre," and "Jeanne d'Arc.*' 
Of these " Norma " has been immortalised by the genius of Bellini, and 
" Jeahne d'Arc '' is rendered famous by the character of the heroine 
being a favourite performance of Mile. Rachel. Yet the romantic sub- 
ject of Joan of Arc is so little suited to the narrow limits of the classic 
stage, that this tragedy, despite of beautiful verse and acting, hangs hea- 
vily in representation : to exhibit the varied fortunes of the Pucelle 
without changing the scene, and without extending the time beyond a 
day, is an undertaking that must necessarily mar the interest of the 

One of the latest writers of classic tragedy is M. Latour de Saint Ybars, 
and he is at the same time one of the best. His " Virginie" is an ex- 
quisite production : its fame is closely connected with that of Mile. 
Rachel : the inherent worth of the play, and her admirable impersonation 
of Virginia, have secured to its frequent repetition delight and admiration. 
The tragedy opens with the prayer of Virginia to the household gods, 
which is replete with classic grace, and feeling. The following is a ver- 
sion of it : 


ACT I. SCENEI. Virginia comes from her chamber ; she carries in her hands, 
with religious fervor, the violet crowns and the cup containing the sacred 
grain : she strews the grain upon the altar of the domestic gods > and places 
the crowns upon their heads. 

Virginia. " Household Gods, you who watch over domestic peace, I 
cmoe according to ancient custom to invoke you. Oh ! deign to re- 
ceive my gifts j I bring to your altar, crowns of flowers, and pure offer- 
ings of salt and grain. For, O Gods domestic! protectors of my 
childhood ; you, it is who have acted in my defence in every danger. 
Behold now, those other divinities who foster love, are withdrawing me 
for ever from the paternal roof. Oh ! Penates, adopt my new found 
family, and guide my footsteps towards that future which my heart re- 
veals. I quit with regret your modest altar and its calm retreat. My 
hope of happiness is great. Yet, I weep in offering you this last 
oblation, while I feel that I soon must quit this spot. Oh, household 
divinities ! accept my farewell. To my father, above all, grant some share 
of comfort, so that the thread of his existence may be one of silk inter- 
woven with gold. I think with sorrow of how he will return alone this 
evening, and seat himself solitary and silent at his hearth. Bounteous 
Gods, if his virtue move you, drive pallid -visaged sleeplessness and 
weariness from his couch. May days of happiness linked one to 
the other come to him in place of the remembrance of sorrows 
that he must forget for ever. Dear tokens of happiness, sweet gifts, 
render me more handsome in my lover's eyes more worthy of his faith. 
Ye Gods of Hymen, put in this veil of the priestly Flamen some sovereign 

charm to captivate Icilius' soul This day then, in a few short 

moments I give myself as a wife to the object of my love. Icilius 
pleases me, and men admire and extol him ; yet my very happiness 
troubles me and makes me fearful. Explain to me this strange sen- 
sation of my heart. This day am I to become the mistress of his 
house, and yet I tremble for Icilius. Oh, pardon me, my beloved, I, 
who doat on thee, do thee offence by this tremor : still I feel as if I 
would willingly return to my childhood." 

In a former number of " the Patrician," when noticing the acting of 
Mile. Rachel at the St. James's Theatre, we contrasted this tragedy of 
Virginia with the romantic play of " Virginius" by Sheridan Knowles .- 
we still scarcelyknow to which to give the preference. M. Latour's work, 
however, next to Talfourd's Ion, is certainly the nearest modern assimi- 
lation to the dramas of antiquity. 

In conclusion, the observations of Augustus Schlegel on the trage- 
dies of France in former times, are so applicable to its modern classic 
drama, that we cannot do better than here extract the passage from his 

" To comprise," says 'M. Schlegel, " what I have hitherto observed in 
a few words : the French have endeavoured to form their tragedy accord- 
ing to a strict idea ; but instead of this they have merely hit upon an 
abstract notion. They require tragical dignity and grandeur, tragical 
situations, passions, and pathos, altogether naked and pure without any 
foreign appendages. From stripping them in this way of their accom- 
paniments they lose much in truth, profundity, and character ; and the 
whole composition is deprived of the living charm of variety, the magic 
of picturesque situations, and of all those overpowering effects which 


can only be produced by the increase of objects under a voluntary 
abandonment after easy and gradual preparation. With respect to the 
theory of the tragic art, they are yet nearly at the point in which they 
were in gardening in the time of Lenotre. The whole merit consists in 
extorting a triumph from nature by means of art. They have no other 
idea of regularity than the measured symmetry of straight alleys, clipt 
hedges, &c. In vain should we labour to make those who lay out such 
gardens comprehend that there can be any plan, any concealed order in 
an English park, and demonstrate to them that a succession of landscapes, 
which from their gradation, their alteration, and their opposition, give 
effect to each other, all aim at exciting in us a certain disposition of 

Mile. Rachel, by the mere force of her genius, may, during her bril- 
liant career, retain the ascendancy of the classic drama; but the spirit 
of Shakespeare, once admitted, must eventually prevail among the French 
a people more than any other of such lively intellect, and romantic 


There appears to be a little confusion as to the proper style to be used in 
the official addresses of mayors of corporate towns ; sometimes we see them 
described as the " Right Worshipful/' and at others the "Worshipful." 
The question is, which is correct ? There being no particular law or regula- 
tion, that we are aware of, in such a case, beyond custom, it seems not 
inappropriate to enquire whether the custom could not now be rendered 
more uniform, by the universal adoption of one or other of these additions, 
whichever may be considered to be the right one. In the " Secretary's 
Guide," 5th ed., 1831, p. 95, it is stated that Mayors of all Corporations, 
with the Sheriffs, Aldermen, and Recorder of London, are styled the " Right 
Worshipful," and the Aldermen and Recorder of other Corporations, and 
Justices of the Peace, " Worshipful." An opinion is entertained, we believe 
by some, that only mayors of cities should be styled " Right Worshipful," 
and those of towns " Worshipful ;" but there scarcely seems to be any valid 
reason for such a distinction, and we incline to think that the former is more 
correctly applicable to mayors in general. The term " Right," in matters 
of title, denotes a more exalted step than another, thus, we speak of the 
" Most," and " Right," honorable or reverend, as a degree in rank higher 
than merely " Honourable" or " Reverend." We observe also that it is the 
practice in London to style the aldermen who have passed the chair, the 
" Right Worshipful," and those below the chair as the " Worshipful" only, 
although all are equally magistrates ; thus, making a distinction between 
those who have been mayors, and those who have not. If the recorder, 
justices, and aldermen of corporate towns are properly entitled to the style 
of " Worshipful," it seems to be only reasonable and proper that the chief 
magistrate or mayor, should be styled the "Right Worshipful ;" and we 
think it advisable that the latter prefix should be generally adopted and sus- 
tained in future, in all places the cause for it may exist. The Mayors of 
London, York, and Dublin, it is well known possess the title of " Lord," 
and are addressed as the " Right Honourable." 



IN p. 254 of our 2nd vol., we gave our readers an account of Valentine 
Greatreakes, Esq., of the co. Waterford, whose extraordinary history forms 
such a remarkable feature in the art of healing. A correspondent has 
now enabled us to add to the pedigree of that family, a name which 
was then omitted, namely, Captain William Greatreakes, of Affane, who was 
brother to the celebrated Valentine, known by the appellation of ''The 
Stroker." This Captain William had a daughter, Anne, who was wife 
of William Cooke, Esq., of Camphire, in the co. Waterford. She died 
the 10th August, 1740. Her husband, William Cooke, was a younger son 
of Robert, of Cappoquin, in the same county, whose eldest son was 
Robert Cooke, Esq., also of Cappoquin, commonly called " Linen Cooke." 
William, who was an Alderman and Mayor of Youghall, and who^died^lst 
June, 1 742, had by his aforesaid wife, a son, Josiah, who died 7th Decem- 
ber, 1754, having been married to Miss Baggs, by whom he was father of 
Robin Cooke, who having served in the 2nd Battalion of the Royals with 
the British Army in North America, was the first to enter the breach 
at Moro, in the Havannah, for which, on his return home, he was publicly 
entertained, and received the freedom of the City of Glasgow. The Muni- 
cipal Act conferring the freedom is now in the possession of his descendant, 
Thomas Wigmore, Esq., of Bally vaddock, co. Cork. Robin m. a lady of 
the O'Brien family, of the co. Limerick, by whom he had an only child, 
Mary, who was b. in 1772, and m. in 1787, Henry Wigmore, Esq., of 
Ballyvaddock. As connected with the celebrated Valentine Greatreakes, 
let us now revert to an equally remarkable personage, Robert, alias 
" Linen" Cooke, before mentioned, to have resided at Cappoquin, in the 
same county Waterford. This Robert Cooke was a very eccentric and 
wealthy gentleman, and had several estates in both England and Ireland. 
His first wife was a Bristol lady, and in consequence of his visits to that 
city he caused a pile of stones to be erected on a rock in the Bristol 
Channel, which after him was called " Cooke's Folly." The name of his 
second wife was Cecilia or Cecily, and he had children, John of Youghall, 
Robert, Josiah, and two daughters. He fled to England in the troubles of 
James the Second's reign, and resided sometimes at Ipswich, in Suffolk, as is 
related by Archbishop King, in his State of the Irish Protestants. During 
his absence, the Parliament held at Dublin, 7th May, 1 689, declared him to 
be attainted as a traitor if he failed in returning to Ireland by the 1st of 
September following. He died in 1726, upwards of eighty years of age, and 
by his will directed that he should be interred with his son John's family, in 
the Cathedral or Church called " Tempul," in Youghall, and that his shroud 
should be made " of linen," Amongst other particularities he had his coach 
drawn by white horses and their harness made of hemp and linen. His 
cows were also white. In Smith's History of the county Waterford, this 
Robert Cooke is reckoned amongst the remarkable personages of that 
county, and a long account given of him. Smith says of him, " He was a 
kind of Pythagorean philosopher, and for many years before his death eat 


neither fish, flesh, butter, nor drank milk or any fermented liquor, nor wore 
woollen clothes or any other produce of an animal." From his constantly 
wearing none but linen garments and using linen generally for other pur- 
poses he acquired the appellation, " Linen Cooke." He maintained a long 
controversy with the celebrated Athenian Society, and in 1 69 1 published a 
curious explanation of his peculiar religious principles, supporting them by 
numerous texts from Scripture, and at the end of all was printed a long 
prayer. It is from Captain Thomas Cooke, an uncle of this " Linen Cooke," 
that the family of Cooke or Cooke- Collis, now settled at Castle Cooke, co. 
Cork, derives its descent, and from another uncle, Edward Cooke, the 
families of Kiltynan, Cordangan, and Fortwilliam, &c., in the co. Tipperary, 
and of Parsonstown, in the King's county, are descended. 


Lady Elizabeth D'Arcy, the fair and richly portioned daughter of 
Thomas, Earl Rivers, was wooed by three suitors at the same time ; and 
the knights, as in chivalry bound, were disposed to contest the prize with 
targe and lance ; but the lady forbade the battle, and menaced disobedience 
with her eternal displeasure, promising, however, jocularly, that if they had 
but patience, she would have them all in their turn; and she literally 
fulfilled her promise, for she married, first, Sir George Trenchard of 
Wolverton, who left her a widow at seventeen ; secondly, Sir John Gage of 
Firle ; and, thirdly, Sir William Hervey of Ickworth ; the three original 
claimants for her hand. 


The Noble House of Cavendish is indebted to the third wife of Sir 
William Cavendish, the faithful friend of Wolsey, for the principal part of 
its vast possessions. That lady, the daughter and co-heir of John Hard- 
wick of Hardwick, erected three of the most splendid seats ever built by a 
single person, Chatsworth, Hardwick, and Oldcotes. She was four times 
married; 1st, to Robert Barley, Esq., of Barley; 2dly, to Sir William 
Cavendish ; 3rdly, to Sir William St. Loo ; and 4thly, to George, Earl of 
Shrewsbury. " She prevailed," says Lodge, " upon the first of these 
gentlemen, who died without issue, to settle his estate upon her and 
her heirs, who were abundantly produced from her second marriage. Her 
third husband, who was very rich, was led by her persuasions to make a 
similar disposition of his fortune, to the utter prejudice of his daughters by 
a former wife ; and now, unsated with the wealth and caresses of three 
husbands, she finished her conquests by marrying the Earl of Shrewsbury, 
the richest and most powerful peer of his time. To sum up her character, 
she was a woman of masculine understanding and conduct, proud, furious, 
selfish, and unfeeling. She was a builder, a buyer, and seller of estates, a 
money lender, a farmer, and a merchant of lead, coals, and timber. She 
lived to a great old age, and died in 1607, immensely rich. 


To the Editor of the Patrician. 
I subscribe to the " Patrician," and on casting my eye over the recent 



list of presentations at Court, I read the name of Rudyerd; it occurred to 
me that it was worthy some little notice, as being of a family whose pedi- 
gree can be traced as far back as 1030, (I possess one) and as you give a 
short account of many of the families, leave it to your better judgment as 
to inserting the following, or any other that may be in your possession. 
And am Sir, 

Yours obediently, 


The family of Rudyerd, of Rudyerd, one of considerable importance, was 
settled in the parish of Leek, co. Stafford, long prior to the Norman Conquest ; 
evidence whereof may be found in Doomsday book and other records of the 
pure Saxon origin. One of the family, Richard, accompanied Richard 
CoBur de Lion to the Crusades, where he distinguished himself. Rudulphus, 
Lord of Rudyerd, living in the reign of Henry VII., joined Lord Stanley 
with a large body of men at the battle of Bosworth, and tradition in 
the family says he was the person who slew the King. Henry VII. on this 
occasion added to the arms on a canton a rose or in a field gules. 

In later years (1708), one Mr. John Rudyerd planned and erected the 
Eddystone Lighthouse, a fabric admirably adapted to resist the elements it 
had to oppose, and stood the test of nearly fifty years, until destroyed by 
fire 2nd December, 1755. 

Sir Benjamin Rudyerd, Judge and Surveyor of the Court of Ward and 
Liveries in the time of Charles and Oliver, of Westwoodhay, co. Berks, 
Knt., was called to the bar at the age of twenty-six, married Mary, dau. of Sir 
Henry Harrington, and left issue an only son, Wm. Rudyerd, who married 
Sarah, one of the five daughters and coheiresses of Sir Stephen Harvey, 
of Melton Maler, co. Northampton, left issue an only son, Benjamin 
Rudyerd, who married Dorothy, one of the two daughters and coheiresses 
of Sir Benjamin Maddox, Bart,, of Wormleybury, co. Herts, by Dorothy, 
his wife, sole heir of Sir William Glascock, of King's Langley, same co., 
Knt. Master of the Court of Requests to King Chas. II., &c. By THIS first 
marriage Mr. B. Rudyerd had several children ; the elder, Robert, married 
Jane, only daughter and heiress of the Hon. Mrs. Chaplin; left issue 
Benjamin Rudyerd, Captain Coldstream Guards, who died unmarried in 
Nova Scotia, 1752. By the second marriage of Mr. B. Rudyerd to Miss 
Beamont, of Yorkshire, descended the late Richard Rudyerd of Whitby, in 
same co., who married Miss Yeomans, but died witout issue, and his 
brothers, the late General Rudyerd of the Royal Engineers, who married 
Mary, daughter of S. Pryer, Esq., of Lichfield, Hants, an ancient family ; 
the General died in 1828, aged 88, whose surviving issue is Col. Rudyerd 
of the Royal Artillery (who from his distinguished services at Waterloo, 
&c., was lately promoted to the superintendence of the Royal Reposi- 
tory at Woolwich, and presented at court, 24th February, 1847). Charles 
Lennox Rudyerd, late paymaster of the Ardean Canal, Canada ; and 
a daughter, Lsetitia, married 1st, Robert Gordon of Xeres, Esq., by 
whom had issue a daughter, married Baxter, Esq., late Attorney 
General at Sidney, N. S. Wales, and secondly Christopher Richardson of 
Field House, Whitby, Yorkshire. The two sons, who died before their 
father the General, were Col. William, of the Engineers, and Capt. Henry, 
of the East India Company, both leaving issue, and followed for a time 
the family profession of arms. 




A correspondent favours us with the following pedigree of the family of 
Henry Welby, Esq. of Goxhill, the London recluse, whose eccentric career 
we described in a former number. 

Ellen Hall, =f Adlard Welby, Esq. 
1st -wife. ( d. 1571. 

of Gedney ,=f=Cassandra, 
2nd wife. 

of Goxhill, the 
great Recluse of 
Grub Street,Lon- 
don, d. 29 Oct. 
1636, et. 84. 

pAlice dau. of Ad- Rev. BasilWelby, SirWm. Wel-=i 
Thos. White, lard, who shot at his by,of Gedney 
Esq. of Wood- brother Henry, Knt. of the 
head, in Rut- with intent to Most Noble 
land, and of kill him ; he was Order of the 
Tuxford, Notts, a dissolute cha- Bath, (late of 
by Anne, his racter. Gedney, 
wife, (sister of 1631.) 
Lord Burleigh.) 

Elizabeth ,= 
an only 

=Sir Christopher William Welby ,= 
Hildyard, of Esq. son & heir 
Wynestead, of Sir William 
Knt. d. 1636. Welby, late of 
Gedney, deceas- 
ed, d. 11 Dec., 8 
Charles I. 1632. 

=Anne Smithe,(dau. Vin- Philip, 
of George Smythe, cent, of Ged- 
Esq. of the city of brother ney, 
London, citizen and of Wm. Esq. 
alderman,) survived 1631. 1635. 
her husband, and 
in 1635 was the 
wife of Francis 
Vernon,Esq. of the 
city of London. 


Henry Hildyard,=f 
of East Horsley, 
in Surrey, Esq. 
d. Jan. 1674. 

^Lady Ann Leake, Sir 
dau. of Francis, 1st Robert, 
Baron d'Eyncourt, d. 1685. 
of Sutton, and Earl 

Chris- Ed- Philip. Chas. Adlard 
topher, ward. Welby, 
d.1694. 1655. 

Dorothy, dau. of Thomas Gran-=j=Henry Hildyard, Esq.of Kel-=j=Elizabeth, dau. of 
tham, Esq. of Goltho, d. 1667- stern in Lincoln, d. abroad. John Hilder, Esq. 
1st wife. 2nd wife. 

Christopher Hild-= 
yard,the son of Hen. 
Hildyard, of Kel- 
stern, and the grand- 
son and heir at law, 
of Henry Hildyard, 
of East Horsley, 
and Lady Ann 
Leke, his wife. 

=Jane, dau. Wm. Ann. Fran- Thos. Mi- William, Richd. 
of George cis. chael. d. 1691. d. 1695. 
Pitt, of 
saye, ances- 
tor of Lord 
Rivers. [ 

Ann.~Birch. Jane.=John Mar- Dorothy, survived and=f George Clay- Elizabeth, 
shall. afterwards m. to her j ton, cf Great d. unm. 
second husband, Ralph Grimsby. 
Tennyson, of Great I 

Christopher Clayton, Esq. of Great 
Grimsby, d.s.p. 1795, nephew Geo. 
Tennyson, his executor. I 

David. Eliza =r=Michael Ann. Jonathan, 
beth. I Tennyson, 

b c 



Georsre Tennyson, Esq. of Bayons Manor ,=f Mary Turner, dau of John 

_. J __ . w i Jl m _ __ ~C /~iI<^ . 

and Usselby Hall, co 


Lincoln, son and Turner, of Caistor. 


I I I 

Rev. George = 
Clayton Ten- 
nyson, D.D. 

=Elizabeth, dau. 
of the Rev. Ste- 
phen Fytche. 

The Rt. Hon.=f 
Charles Ten- 
nyson, d'Eyn- 
court, M.P. 
of Bayons 
Manor and 
Usselby Hall, 
co. Lancaster. 

=Frances Mary, Eliza-=i 
only child of beth. 
Rev.John Hut- 
ton, of Morton 


Esq. of 

Charles Tennyson Tur- Alfred 
ner, Esq. of Caistor, Tenny- 
assumed the name of son, 
Turner, under the will the 
of his uncle the Rev. Poet. 
Samuel Turner, of 

Other George Hild- Other Wm. Rus- Emma Ma- 
issue, yard, eldest issue. sell,Esq. of ria, m. the 
son and heir Brance- Hon. Gus- 
apparent. - peth. tavus Fre- 


In a letter from Dr. Brett to Dr. Warren, president of Trinity-hall, Cam- 
bridge, dated September 1, 1723, it is said, that about Michaelmas, 1720, 
the doctor went to pay a visit to Heneage, Earl of Winchelsea, at Eastwell- 
house, where that nobleman shewed him an entry in the parish register, 
which the doctor transcribed immediately into his almanack ; it stood thus : 
" 1550, Richard Plantagenet was buryed the 22 daye of December." The 
register did not mention whether he was buried in the church or church- 
yard, nor could any memorial be retrived of him, except the tradition pre- 
served in the family, and some remains of his house. The story of this 
man, as it was related by the Earl of Winchelsea, is thus : When Sir 
Thomas Moyle built Eastwell-house, he observed, that when his chief brick- 
layer left off work, he retired with a book. Sir Thomas had a great curiosity 
to know what book the man read ; but was some time before he could dis- 
cover it, he always putting the book up if any one came towards him. A t 
last, however, Sir Thomas surprised him, and snatched the book from him, 
and looking upon it, found it to be Latin : hereupon he examined him, and 
finding he pretty well understood that language, enquired how he came by his 
learning ? On which the man told him, as he had been a good master to 
him, he would venture to trust him with a secret he had never before revealed. 
He then informed him, that he was boarded with a Latin schoolmaster, with- 
out knowing who his parents were, till he was fifteen or sixteen years old ; 
only a gentleman who took occasion to acquaint him he was no relation to 
him, came once a quarter and paid for his board, and took care to see that 
he wanted for nothing ; and one day this gentleman took him, and carried 
him to a fine great house, where he passed through several stately rooms, in 
one of which he left him, bidding him to stay there ; then a man finely 
dressed, with a star and garter, came to him, asked him some questions, 
talked kindly to him, and gave him some money ; then the forementioned 
gentleman returned and conducted him back to his school. Some time after, 
the same gentleman came to him again with a horse, and proper accoutre- 


ments, and told him he must take a journey with him into the country. 
They then went into Leicestershire, and came to Bosworth Field, and he was 
carried to Richard the Third's tent. The king embraced him, and told him 
he was his son. "But child," said he, "to-morrow I must fight for my 
crown, and assure yourself if I lose that, I will lose my life too, but I hope to 
preserve both. Do you stand in such a place, (directing him to a particular 
place) where you may see the battle out of danger, and when I have gained 
the victory, come to me. I will then own you to be mine, and take care of 
you ; but if I should be unfortunate as to lose the battle, then shift as well 
as you can, and take care to let nobody know I arn your father, for no mercy 
will be shown to any one so nearly related to me." Then the king gave 
him a purse of gold, and dismissed him. He followed the king's directions, 
and when he saw the battle was lost, and the king killed, he hastened to Lon- 
don, sold his horse and fine clothes, &nd the better to conceal himself from 
all suspicion of being the son of a king, and that he might have the means to 
live by his honest labour, he put himself apprentice to a bricklayer, but having 
a competent skill in the Latin tongue, he was unwilling to lose it, and having 
an inclination to reading, and no delight in the conversation of those he was 
obliged to work with, he generally spent all the time he had to spare in 
reading by himself. Sir Thomas said, " you are now old, and almost past 
your labour, and I will give you the running of my kitchen as long as you 
live." He answered, " Sir, you have a numerous family ; I have been used 
to live retired ; give me leave to build a house of one room for myself in 
such a field, and there, with your good leave I will live and die ; and if you 
have any work that I can do for you, I shall be ready to serve you. Sir 
Thomas granted his request ; he built his house, and there continued to his 
death. This Richard Plantagenet must have lived to the age of 81, for the 
battle of Bosworth was fought the 22d of August, 1485, at which time hp 
was between fifteen and sixteen. 


Quanno nascette Ninno a Betelemme, 

Era notte, e parea miezo juorno ; 

Maje li stelle 

Lustere e belle 

Se vedetteno accussi 

La chiti lucente 

Tettea chiammk li Magi in Oriente. 

* One of those little moral hymns which the Zampognari or pipers, from the Abruzzi 
and Calabrian mountains, sing before the images of the Virgin at the corners of the streets 
in Rome and Naples at the season of Advent, accompanied by the^ sound of their rustic 


No' ncerano nemice ppe la terra, 
La pecora pasua co lo Hone, 
Co lii crapette 
Se vedette 

Lu liopardo pazzia 
L' urzo co vitrello 
E co lo lupo 'ripace u pecoriello. 

Guardavano le pecore li pasture 

E 1'Angelo gbrannente chiti de lu sole 


E li dicette, 

Non ve spaventate, n6 ; 

Contento e riso 

La terra arreventata Paravuo. 

When Christ in Bethlehem was born, 

Twas night, but seemed the noon of day, 

Each shining star 

In heaven afar, 

Shed o'er the earth its lightest ray j 

But one than all the rest more bright 

Guided the Eastern Magi onward by its pure and golden light. 

Then o'er the world reigned Peace and Love ; 

1 he lion and the simple sheep, 

The pard and kid 

Together feed, 

Or o'er the lawns securely sleep ; 

The wolf and lamb, the calf and bear, 

Repose in safety each, nor seek the forest's dark and leafy lair. 

The Shepherds as they watched their flocks, 
A sunlike angel saw descend, 
Who sweetly said, 
" Be not dismayed, 
With joyful tidings here I wend ! 
For Earth puts on her loveliest guise, 

And shines in heavenly beauty now, transformed anew to Paradise," 






IN these days of perpetual motion, when not only the loyal lieges "of our 
sovereign lady, but the good citizens of the world beside, are making such 
marvellous efforts to subdue time and space, it may be found as instructive 
as it is obviously pertinent to institute comparison between the present 
and those good old times " all times, when old, are good" wherein your 
honest country gentleman deemed it prudent to devise his lands and tene- 
ments, and otherwise adjust his mundane affairs, ere he perilled life and 
limb, by coach or waggon, athwart that dreary stretch of country which lay 
between the great cities of York and London : by coach or waggon, we say, 
for the bold baron and his noble dame, of some centuries before, on steed 
and palfrey, scorning all other canopies but that of heaven, come not within 
the range of our similitude, maugre they flourished, like ourselves, in Iron 
Times. The wife of Bath, whose praise it was that t 

" Girt with a pair of sporres sharpe, 
Upon an ambler esily she sat/ 

would doubtless have felt herself insulted, had a carriage been selected for 
her use. At a time when roads were scarcely passable, the palfrey and the 
litter were the only modes of ladies' conveyance ; and even after the intro- 
duction of coaches, the use of litters continued both in England and France. 
In 1527, when Wolsey visited the latter kingdom to negotiate a peace, we 
find that the dame regent, the king's mother, entered Amiens, " riding in a 
very riche chariot ; and with her therein was the Queen of Navarre, her 
daughter, furnished with a hundred and more of ladies and gentlewomen 
following, every one riding upon a white palfrie ; besides diverse and many 
ladies, some in riche horse-litters, and some in chariots." The king, though 
attired with the utmost magnificence, according to the military spirit of the 
age, rode into the city on a " goodly genet." 

Stowe asserts that, " in the year 1564, Guilliam Boonen, a Dutchman, 
became the queene's coachman, and was the first that brought the use of 
coaches into England." The first engraved representation of an English 
coach is probably to be found in the fine old print of the Palace of Nonsuch, 
by Hoemagel, which bears the date of 1582. Queen Elizabeth is there 
seated in a low heavy machine, open at the sides, with a canopy, and drawn 
by two horses only. Her attendants follow in a carriage of different form, 
with an oblong canopy. 

Mary, Queen of Scots, whilst under the surveillance of the Earl of 
Shrewsbury, appears to have travelled on horseback in her various journeys, 
and about the year 1640, the Countess of Cumberland, in a tedious transit 
from London to Londesborough, which occupied eleven days, either from 
the state of the roads, or from a distaste to metropolitan luxuries, seems to 
have ridden the whole way on horseback. In the correspondence of Sir 
George Radcliffe, we have many proofs of the serious inconvenience that 


attended travellers in the early part of the 17th century ; and the following 
is a curious instance of the simplicity of manners prevalent at the period. 
The editor observes "at this time (1609) the communication between the 
north of England and the Universities was kept up by carriers, who pur- 
sued their tedious but uniform route with whole trains of pack-horses. To 
their care was consigned not only the packages, but frequently the persons 
of young scholars. It was through their medium, also, that epistolary cor- 
respondence was managed, and, as they always visited London, a letter could 
scarcely be exchanged between Yorkshire and Oxford in less time than a 
month." From a passage in one of the Paston letters, written about the 
close of the loth century, we find that few opportunities occurred of trans- 
mitting letters from London to Norwich, except through the agency of 
persons who frequented the fairs held in the latter city- In the south of 
England, at a period long subsequent, the state of the public roads appears 
to have been equally defective, and convenience in travelling almost wholly 
neglected. In Dec. 1703, Charles, King of Spain, slept at Petworth, on 
his way from Portsmouth to Windsor, and Prince George of Denmark went 
to meet him there. " We set out" (as one of the attendants relates) " at 
six o'clock in the morning to go for Petworth, and did not get out of the 
coaches (save only when we were overturned or stuck fast in the mire) till 
we arrived at our journey's end. 'Twas hard service for the Prince to sit 
fourteen hours in the coach that day without eating anything, and passing 
through the worst ways that I ever saw in my life ; we were thrown but 
once indeed, in going, but both our coach, which was the leading, and his 
Highness's body coach, would have suffered very often, if the nimble boors 
of Sussex had not frequently poised it or supported it with their shoulders 
from Godalmin almost to Petworth ; and the nearer we approached to the 
Duke's house, the more unaccessible it seemed to be. The last nine miles 
of the way cost us six hours to conquer them, and indeed we had never 
done it, if our good master had not several times lent us a pair of horses 
out of his own coach, whereby we were enabled to trace out the way for 
him ; they made us believe that the several grounds we crost, and his 
Grace's park, would alleviate the fatigue ; but I protest 1 could hardly per- 
ceive any difference between them and the common roads." 

In the time of Charles, surnamed the Proud, Duke of Somerset, who died 
in 1 748, the roads in Sussex were in so bad a state, that in order to arrive 
at Guildford from Petworth, persons were obliged to make for the nearest 
point of the great road leading from Portsmouth to London. This was a 
work of so much difficulty as to occupy the whole day, and the duke had a 
house at Guildford which was regularly occupied as a resting-place for the 
night by any part of his family travelling to London. A MS. letter from 
a servant of the Duke's, dated from London, and addressed to another at 
Petworth, acquaints the latter that his Grace intended to go from London 
thither on a certain day, and directs that " the keepers and persons who 
knew the holes and the sloughs, must come to meet his Grace with lanthorns 
and long poles to help him on his way." 

The precise period at which a stage-coach first appeared upon the road, 
it is difficult to determine ;* but we have good authority for assigning the 
latter part of the reign of Charles I. as the probable date : certain it is, that 

* Coaches for hire were first established in 1625, and amounted at that time to 
twenty. They stood at the principal inns, and were called " Hackney Coaches," from 
their being first used to travel betwixt London and Hackney. 


although in 1662 there were but six public carriages, the number had so in- 
creased in a few years after, that one John Crossell, of the Charter House, 
then one of the wise men of the East, tried his best to write down the new- 
system. He had, it is conjectured, the countenance of the country squires, 
who dreaded that the facility and cheapness of travelling would too often 
induce their dames arid daughters to visit the metropolis, and unfit them for 
the homely pleasures of the Hall and the Grange. The tradesmen, too, in 
and near London, took it into their heads to consider the existence of such 
vehicles a public evil, and, in a spirit very much akin to that which has ex- 
isted in our own times, petitioned King Charles II. and the Privy Council to 
put an end to the " stage coach nuisance ;" but the result of this petition 
against so important a public convenience was as unsuccessful as every si- 
milar attempt made by the few against the welfare of the many must ever 
ultimately be. 

The improvement in coach travelling made slow progress during the next 
half-century. The novels of Fielding and Smollet afford amusing and 
graphic details of the stages and waggons of their day ; but the pencil of 
Hogarth, will best exhibit the strange contrast there existed between the 
lumbering vehicle of the reign of George I., and the dashing equipage that, 
in the time of his fourth successor, accomplished the distance between Lon- 
don and Brighton within five hours. In 1 742 the Oxford stage-coach left town 
at seven o'clock in the morning, and reached Uxbridge at midday. It ar- 
rived at High Wycombe at five in the evening, where it rested for the night, 
and proceeded at the same rate for the seat of learning on the morrow. 
Here then were ten hours consumed each day in passing over twenty- seven 
miles, and nearly two days in performing what is now accomplished in as 
many hours. Thirty years ago, the Holyhead mail left London, via Oxford, 
at eight o'clock at night, and arrived in Shrewsbury between ten and eleven 
the following night, being twenty-seven hours to one hundred and sixty-two 
miles. This distance was done without the least difficulty, in 1832, in six- 
teen hours and a quarter. At that period, and for the five or six following 
years, stage-coach travelling attained in this country most astonishing per- 
fection. Competition had reduced charges to their lowest level, and brought 
elegance, comfort, and expedition to their highest. The great Northern, 
the Western, the Oxford, and the Brighton roads were covered with splen- 
did public conveyances. On the last, no less than twenty-live ran during 
the summer. The fastest were the Red Rover, the Age, and the Telegraph, 
all horsed in the most admirable manner, and driven in many instances by 
men of rank and education. The Edinburgh mail performed the distance, 
400 miles, in forty hours ; and one might have set his watch by it at any 
point of the journey. The Exeter day coach, the Herald, ran over her 
ground, 173 miles, both hilly and difficult, in twenty hours; the Diligence 
from Paris to Calais requiring, for the same distance, forty-eight hours in 
summer, and from fifty to sixty in winter. 

Thus it was, before steam, with its irresistible power, came to revolutionise 
the travelling world, that we journeyed through the picturesque scenery of 
our own beautiful island, enjoying the rural comforts of its road-side hostel- 
ries, admiring its ancient cities, and priding ourselves on the industry and 
bustle of its manufacturing towns. How spiritedly does Boz recall to our 
recollection the departed glory of the turnpike road. " The coach was none 
of your steady- going, yokel coaches, but a swaggering, rakish, disreputable, 
London coach ; up all night, and lying by all day, and leading a devil of a 
life. It cared no more for Salisbury than if it had been a hamlet. It 


rattled noisily through tfie best streets, defied the cathedral, took the worst 
corners sharpest, went cutting in every where, making every thing get out 
of its way ; and spun along the open country road, blowing a lively defiance 
out of its key bugle, as its last glad parting legacy. The four grays skimmed 
along : the bugle was in as high spirits as the grays ; the coachman chimed 
in sometimes with his voice, the wheels hummed cheerfully in unison : the 
brass work on the harness was an orchestra of little bells ; and thus, as they 
went clinking, jingling, rattling, smoothly on, the whole concern, from the 
buckles of the leaders' coupling-reins, to the hand of the hind boot, was 
one great instrument of music." 


r When the mail coaohes, after the practice and improvement of a few 
years, had gradually attained the speed of ten or twelve miles an hour, great 
was the self-laudation of the age upon its own nimbleness as compared to 
the slow gouty-paced travelling of its ancestors. It was a subject on which 
the eighteenth century, especially when drawing near its end, was mightily 
facetious and grandiloquent, always wondering what its dear departed gran- 
dames would say if they could only peep out of their graves and see the 
portentous rate at which it was flying along the road, even without the 
necessity of making a will beforehand. But now, how are the tables 
turned ! the fable of the seven -leagued boots, used by Jack in the fairy tale, 
were evidently only a symbol, at once marking and veiling the discovery of 
the steam-engine, just as Friar Bacon hid his invention of gunpowder under 
a jumble of words, being equally unwilling to lose the credit of his know- 
ledge, or to impart it to others. We, therefore, beg leave, to put in Jack's 
claim at once, in case the French or Americans, those universal discoverers 
of all that has been discovered, should attempt to defraud the giant-killing 
hero of the glory that belongs to him. 

- There is something not a little flattering to our hopes of future improve- 
ment, when we look at the humble origin of railway travelling. Who that 
sees one of the present splendid trains flying along at the rate of twenty or 
thirty miles an hour, would imagine that it was the lineal descendant of a 
coal-cart, slowly drawn along a wooden tram by a single horse ? And yet 
such is the bare fact, stript of all exaggeration. This simple contrivance 
was adopted about two-hundred years ago, to facilitate the drawing of coals 
from the pits to the places of shipment in the neighbourhood of Newcastle- 
upon-Tyne ; the waggon, which went upon small wheels, contained from 
two to three tons of coal, and was provided with a flange, or projecting rim, 
for the purpose of keeping it in contact with the rail. From time to time 
various improvements were made upon this humble beginning-, without, 
however, deviating from the general principle ; stone- supports were sub- 
stituted for the wooden sleepers, arid, to make the pull easier for the horse, 
in steep ascents, or in the case of sharp curves, thin plates of malleable iron 
were nailed on the surface of the rails, the greater smoothness of the metal 
facilitating the draught. Then cast-iron rods were introduced ; but this ex- 
periment, seemingly so obvious, was, after all, the result of accident, as 
perhaps may be said of many other discoveries for which individuals have 
obtained all the fame that belongs to invention. It seems that in 1767 the 
price of iron became very low, and, in order to keep the furnaces at work, 
it was resolved to cast bars, to be laid upon the wooden rails ; this would 
save expense in their repairs ; and if any sudden rise in the value of iron 


should take place, they might be taken up again, and, in the language of 
the trade, sold as pigs. Excellent as this plan was, when compared with 
what had been done before, it was soon found to have its disadvantages. 
The form of the rail was weak, considering the quantity of metal employed 
upon it, and it allowed dirt and pebbles to be lodged, which impeded the 
free motion of the carriages, and even made them liable to be thrown out of 
the track. This, after some minor attempts at improvement, led to the 
grand invention of edge-rails, which was followed by the use of malleable 
rods in place of the brittle cast-iron, an ingenious adaptation of rolling ma- 
chinery having enabled the engineers to give them the requisite form. 

Hitherto we have seen only animal power used to impel the carriages on 
a railway ; but gravity soon came to be employed as an auxiliary, and in 
some cases as the sole propelling agent, where the road admitted of an in- 
clined plane, no greater power being required to take a loaded carriage down 
than to drag it up again. Where the too great steepness of the ground 
rendered this plan inadmissible, recourse was had to what was called a self- 
acting inclined plane, by which ingenious contrivance the loaded car in its 
descent pulled up the empty waggons by means of a rope passed round a 
wheel at the top of the acclivity. This may be considered as the first 
chapter in the history of the railway, which, though a simple term, we shall 
presently see applied to that compound piece of engineering, which includes 
the steam-engine, the carriages, and the road on which they travel. But 
we have not yet quite done with the railway itself, properly so called. > 

When experience had once established the fact that iron rails, by lessen- 
ing the friction, considerably lightened the draught, it will not seem strange 
that a projector should at last be found to speculate on the advantage of 
substituting railways for the common road. This was Dr. Anderson. He 
had no idea of any new locomotive power, but proposed to carry a line^of rail 
ways by the side of the turnpike roads, along which waggons might pass 
drawn by horses. Mr. Edgeworth, either borrowing the Doctor's idea, or, 
as he said, having originated it himself, went a step farther, and in " Nichol- 
son's Journal of the Arts" for March, 1802, suggested that means might 
be found to enable " stage-coaches to go six miles an hour, and post chaises 
and gentlemen's travelling- carriages to travel with eight, both with one 
horse." But neither of the projectors seemed to have considered how the 
rail was to be carried on by the side of the turnpike-road when the latter 
came to run through the towns, or how the carriage was to be moved when 
the intervention of any steep made farther progress impossible ; though one 
horse might draw a waggon upon a rail, it was quite evident that he could 
not drag the same weight up a hill along a common highway. As, how- 
ever, neither of these plans was attempted to be carried into effect, the diffi- 
culties in question never came to be tested. 

While tram-ways had thus been exercising the ingenuity of projectors, a 
power was growing to maturity, which was destined to change the whole face 
of the matter. In 1802 it occurred to Messrs. Trevethick and Vivian to take 
out a patent for a steam -carriage on the public road : and though it does not 
appear to have been ever actually employed, it led to the experiment being 
tried on a colliery railway in South Wales. It succeeded but partially, and a 
fancy having now seized the engineers that a smooth-tired wheel would not 
adhere sufficiently to the surface of the rail for onward motion, all their in- 
genuity was employed in removing a difficulty, which did not exist, till 
after the lapse of a few years, Mr. George Stephenson was fortunate enough 
to discover that his brethren had been fighting with a shadow. The con- 


struction of the first of the modern, or travelling class of railways, between 
Darlington and Stockton, on which one horse drew with ease a carriage 
with twenty- six passengers, at the rate of ten miles an hour, afforded an 
opportunity for testing his invention. Accordingly it was tried, and though 
the operation was remarkable, its success was not sufficient to attract the 
public attention. The Titan had not yet attained its full maturity ; and 
when, some time afterwards, the monied men of Manchester and Liverpool 
employed Mr. Stephenson to construct a railroad for them, they had no 
idea, as it should seem, of any other motive agent than stationary engines, 
The question, however, on the completion of the railway, came to be agi- 
tated, when these practical men of business, wisely preferring facts to theory 
offered a reward of five hundred pounds for the best locomotive carriage, 
capable of fulfilling certain conditions. Their demands were not very exor- 
bitant : ten miles an hour was the maximum of speed required, and it is 
curious enough in the present day to read how even the friends of the loco- 
motive project disclaimed any such NONSENSE as the idea of travelling by 
steam " at the rate of ten, sixteen, eighteen, twenty miles an hour." It 
must be acknowledged that these new Frankensteins little understood the 
tremendous nature of the monster they were calling into existence. 

At length, on the 8th of October, 1829, a day more justly to be cele- 
brated than even the anniversaries of the Nile or Waterloo, the trial took 
place, on a portion of the Liverpool and Manchester railway, prepared for 
the purpose. Greatly to the surprise of those who a short time before had 
voted Mr. Stephenson only fit for Bedlam, his carriage went at the rate of 
thirty miles an hour without a load, and at twenty-four miles an hour when 
encumbered with three times its own weight, which was thirteen tons. 
Titan had now triumphed : the union of the railway and the locomotive 
engine was complete ; but still the idea of carrying goods was uppermost 
in men's minds, nor was it till the invention had come into active operation, 
that its great value as a means of conveying passengers was at all under- 
stood. Then, indeed, the truth became gradually developed, and men saw 
not a few with fear as well as wonder the realization of those day-dreams 
which had been promulgated by Dr. Darwin so early as 1 793 : 

" Soon shall thy arm, unconquer'd STEAM ! afar 
Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car ; 
Or oil wide-waving wings expanded bear 
The flying chariot through the fields of air.'* 

Botanic Garden, Canto i. 253289. 

Well may the reader of these lines exclaim with Macbeth, upon the half 
achievement of his greatness 

* Two truths are told, 
As happy prologues to the swelling act 
Of the aerial (imperial) theme." 

At all events, the thirty miles an hour seemed just as absurd in those 
days, when the idea was first started, as the flying chariot can possibly do 
to us ; and, though the latter may be never realised, it should hardly be set 
down in the chapter of utter impossibilities. 

No sooner was the locomotive steam-engine found to answer the expec- 
tation of the inventors, than a new impetus was given to the formation of 
roads, on which they might most effectually exert their agency. Up ascents 
of any great steepness, it was quite clear, they would not go, the adhesion 
between the engine-wheels and the rails not being sufficient to ensure the 


progressive motion of the machine. Ways, therefore, had to be cut through 
hills where they were not too high, throwing up the earth on either side, or 
they were to be formed by tunnelling where the- height of the ground made 
that the cheapest and most efficacious mode of working. Sometimes, as in 
case of narrow valleys, it was found better to carry the road across them 
upon arches, the expense being less than the more ordinary way of raising 
an embankment. 

Latterly, the introduction of another element has threatened to render 
useless not a few of these ingenious contrivances. It has been proposed, 
and the experiment is now actually in progress, to lay down hollow pipes or 
cylinders, and exhaust the air in them, by means of steam engines fixed at 
certain distances, when the atmospheric pressure, it is expected, will be suf- 
ficient to propel the carriages that are connected by means of a rod with the 
several tubes. The objectors to the plan cry oat upon the expense, as well 
as the great difficulty of carrying it out in frosty weather, and upon an ex- 
tended line, for they argue that the experiment tried in the neigbourhood of 
Dublin upon a scale of three miles, goes for nothing, however successful it 
may have been. They refer to the result to confirm their forebodings ; and 
certainly there is no denying the homely old proverb, that " the proof of the 
pudding is in the eating ;" still, if we must not praise till we have tasted, 
we have just as little right to blame ; and the verdict becomes still more 
suspicious when, as in this case, it is plain the opinion is given from other 
interests and predilections. They who have embarked thousands in the 
present railways may be excused if they are a little incredulous as to the 
feasibility of the atmospheric scheme. For ourselves, we have in our time 
seen so many things turn out well that had previously been declared to be 
impossible, that we are inclined to distrust the sceptics even more than the 
enthusiasts. Dr. Lardner, we can well remember, proclaimed the utter 
impossibility of steam -carriages ever going above thirty miles an hour, just 
as, a few years before, the very friends of Stephenson had ridiculed the idea 
of a speed that should exceed ten. But the doctor had this advantage ; he 
was really and truly a scientific man, and demonstrated his opinion as irre- 
fragably as any proposition of Euclid, when lo and behold the scorner was 
again rebuked by fact. In the midst of his jeers, the machine showed it 
was very possible to double the utmost degree of speed he had allowed. 
" Ibi omnis effusus labor." It is true that this extreme attempt at velocity 
has not everywhere been repeated, but its being done is quite enough 
to put a whole battalion of LL.D.'s to the rout ; and we therefore abide by 
our hopes of the atmospheric railway, the rather from not having any shares 
in the locomotive speculations. If we had, it might materially influence our 
judgment, as it does that of many other honest folks, great admirers of the 
things and powers that be. 

We have now briefly traced the history of the great railway experiment in 
conjunction with the steam-engine. It might be deemed presumptuous to 
attempt calculating on what are likely to be the future results of this extra- 
ordinary combination ; yet it is hardly possible to refrain altogether from 
some pleasant dreams of the time when by the agency of steam, both on 
land and water, the prejudices that now separate the various families of 
mankind shall be worn away, and their various habits so assimilated, that 
they may all form, if not one people, at least a confederation of nations. That 
it will do this there can be little doubt, but we think it is destined to do 
much more ; if machinery goes on at its present rapid pace for another 
century, superseding much of the necessity of human labour, it is quite clear 



that the present forms of society, which grew out of other circumstances, 
must be broken up and remoulded, though the wildest imagination may fail 
to picture what shape it will finally assume. In the meanwhile we have 
only to comfort ourselves with the old maxim, that " every thing is for the 


Eau volg bain alia mia bella, 
Ed ell eir vuol bain a mi, 

Na nel muond nonais co ella 
Che plaschar m'poassa pli. 

Nus vivains in allegria, 

In plaischarlu uniun, 
Non sentin otra fadia, 

Co nel temp ch' eau 1'abbandun. 

Ma noass cours taunt s'assumaglien, 
Ella vuol quistque ch' eau vo j 

E pissers ma non s'travaglien, 
Quelo laschains nus a sien lo. 

D'el sutur eis 1'amatura 
Ed eir eau unguota main ; 

El trampelg va tust suot sura 
Cura chia nus duos sutain. 

Escha sun con otr' intraischia 
Us olqs m'ho ladieu adoss 

Ma ella no'ls ditumar laischia 
Ne d'oters vuol ne tuchiar Toss. 

Escha vein la generala 
Cuerr in prest a la pigliar 

L' accompang na be mar schiala 
Ma in stuva poass entrar. 

Edu allr ch' ungiens non sainten 
Chiosas dischains da taunt dalef , 

Che noass cuors quasi s'alguainten 
Per amur e per affet. 

Sch'un colomb eis ella prisa 

Inuozainta sch un agne 
Eis miviglia, eis bendisa 

Eis per amur, eis pura fe. 

Taunt ardeinte eis sia ogliseda 
E taunt tener eis sien cour, 

Scha Weinsberg fass assedia3da 
Ella gniss a m' portar our. 

I love a little rustic beauty, 

And dearly loves this beauty me ; 

In the whole world there is no maiden 
Can give me half such joy as she. 

We live always in sweet communion, 
In smiles and gladness of the heart, 

We know no hour of gloom or sorrow, 
But that sad hour which bids us part. 

Our minds are one, our hopes and wishes, 
What please me gives her delight, 

We have no little tiffs or poutings ; 

All these long since have ta'en their flight, 

* The Romaunch language is a dialect of the Tyrol. 


This charming girl is fond of dancing ; 

And / love dancing for her sake, 
The rest behold us both with envy, 

When in the sets our place we take. 

If e'er I meet some other partner, 

On me her charming eyes still shine, 
No other wins her glance of beauty, 

She'll clasp no other hand than mine. 

When all clap hands, and dance is over, 

I run at once to her dear side, 
Not merely down the steps escorting, ^ 

But her sweet footsteps homeward guide. 

How sweetly, gently, then conversing, 

We pass the moonlit hours away, 
Our hearts grow one in fond affection 

Love warming all we think and say. 

No dove is softer than this maiden, 

No lamb more innocent, I ween, 
Playful and kind, religious, beauteous, 

No lovelier virgin e'er was seen. 

Her eyes are bright and full of courage, 

Her heart is mine so faithfully, 
If Weinsberg were in mortal danger 

She'd run to save, or die with me. 





HER Majesty's Theatre continues the centre of attraction to the whole 
fashion of London : the excitement created by the surpassing merit of 
Jenny Lind has no wise abated, and every night of her performance the 
house is invaded by a multitude by a perfect mass of admirers. Never did 
singer before make impression like this. The name, and the fame of Jenny 
Lind form the topic of conversation universally, unceasingly. Each new 
character she impersonates is another triumph : each repetition adds fresh 
laurels to that crown of harmony which now belongs to her alone. " La 
Figlia del Reggimento," " La Sonnambula," " Norma," are repeated again 
and again amid enthusiasm and delight. So complete is the excellence of 
Jenny Lind, as the heroine in each of these operas, that it becomes impos- 
sible to give the preference to any one of them. " Norma," considering the 
difficulty she had to contend with, is perhaps the greatest wonder she has 
achieved. The first night of her acting Norma was distinguished by a state 
visit from the Queen. It was a glorious occasion for her Majesty's Theatre. 
The aspect of the house was magnificent. The Royal box, surmounted by 
a crown, was hung with crimson velvet, fringed with gold ; the decorations 
extended to the boxes on the right and left, which held the ladies and gen- 
tlemen of the suite. Two yeomen, according to ancient custom, stood on 
the stage in front of the regal presence. Her Majesty and Prince Albert, 
who was dressed in fall uniform, arrived exactly at eight o'clock, which was 
the signal for the commencement of the national anthem. The brilliant 
assemblage in the boxes, the richness of the dresses, the abundance of 
jewels worn by the fair visitors, produced a superb spectacle when the whole 
company rose. Nor was the enthusiasm less than the splendour. Accla- 
mations were uttered on all sides, and handkerchiefs were waved in all direc- 
tions at the end of the anthem. 

The peculiarity in Mademoiselle Jenny Lind's Norma is, that she makes 
the fiercer features of the character less prominent than her predecessors, 
but the portions that illustrate the tender affections much more so. Norma 
may be interpreted two ways. The jealous rage into which she breaks when 
she discovers that Adalgisa is the object of Pollio's love, the frenzy which 
tempts her to kill her children, may be so brought forward that the feminine 
nature is almost forgotten, and still a very fine impressive performance may 
be the result, But Norma, in spite of her violence, is a tender mother and 
an affectionate daughter ; her last wish before death is to be reconciled to her 
father, and obtain his promise to protect her children. These are the pecu- 
liarities which Jenny Lind seizes, and hence the great delicacy of her read- 
ing. She gives the Celtic priestess a deep impress of mournfulness, she 
makes one think rather of the pain she is forced to endure than of the im- 
placable resentment she harbours. Nothing could be more deeply sorrowful 
than the " Qua! cor tradisti" in tfas finale, it is the perfection of intense re- 
proach. The by-play throughout is most refined, a by-play all illustrative of 
the softer treatment of the character. 

It is of course unnecessary to descant on the singing of Jenny I.-ind in 
Norma, for that is perfection past description. Her voice in'' Casta Diva" 
" Deh ! con te" " Si fino" falls upon enraptured ears, 


like the sweet south 

That breathes upon a bank of violets 
Stealing and giving odour. 

With regard to the " Figlia del Reggimento," the graceful walk 
so military, and withal so feminine the completely natural air, make Jenny 
Lind's " Maria " one of the most charming exhibitions that can be conceived. 

The Swedish airs which Mademoiselle Lind first sung in private at Bucking- 
ham Palace, and then introduced in public, exhibit her in a new light. The melo- 
dies themselves are of a singular character, constantly awakening the 
reminiscence of other national airs, and as constantly causing the re- 
miniscence to fade away. Now they seem to touch the old English ballad, 
and now to border on Swiss peculiarism. Simplicity is not their character- 
istic ; they are marked by difficult intervals the key is suddenly changed, 
and they have less of the tune form than most compositions of the popular 
class. The melancholy and the joyous strangely intermix, the pathetic and 
the coquetish balance each other, so that one scarcely knows which pre- 
dominates. But the charm is not so much in the airs as in Mademoiselle 
Jenny Lind's manner of singing them. This is distinguished by exquisite 
naivete. She Sports heedlessly with the melody, and thus gives it the effect 
of playful spontaneousness. A sort of winning light-heartedness continually 
displays itself, and produces the effect of true exhiliration. 

The Ballet department of her Majesty's Theatre is now eminently filled : 
there are Carlotta Grisi, and Rosati, and Cerito, the three appearing night after 
night. At any other time their combined attraction would have been all in 
all sufficient, but now, though they are as perfect as ever ; though in opera, too 
the glorious tones of Lablache reverberate in their full pomp, and the sweet 
notes of Gardoni speak in exquisite melody, yet thought or talk is but of 
Jenny Lind of Jenny Lind alone, the unrivalled, the unapproachable. That 
worthy and quaint old poet Geoffrey Chaucer tells us, in a ballad, how he 
forsook his bed to listen to the nightingale, and how enraptured he was : 

I heard in the next bush beside 

A nightingale so lustily sing, 

That with her clere voice she made ring 

Through all the greene wood wide. 

All London seems now to follow the bard's example. Repose is forgotten 
the sole consideration is the ecstasy produced by the clere voice of the 
nightingale of London. 


Monsieur Bouffe', one of the greatest actors of France is now performing 
at the St. James's Theatre. His Gamin de Paris, his Michel Perrin, and his 
miser in " La Fille de 1'Avare " display talent of the very highest order. 
Wit and pathos, recklessness and hard-heartedness virtue and vice are 
alike vividly, powerfully true, with this admirable comedian. There is also 
here a Mademoiselle Duverger, an actress of the lively school, who might 
be equally put forward as a model of excellence in her pleasant, and fasci- 
nating^ department of the histrionic art. The greatest value of the St. 
James's Theatre is that it produces in rapid and rich succession, upon one 
stage, actors and actresses who, even in Paris, can be only seen by going to 
a dozen different theatres. We have here the very cream of the drama of 
France. An announcement states that the season is to conclude with the 
appearance of Rachel that brightest of all Gallia's constellations. 




CAROLINE, CONSORT OF GEORGE II. ; including letters from the most 
celebrated persons of her time : now first published from the originals, 
by MRS. THOMPSON, author of " The Life of the Duchess of Marlborough," 
" Memoirs of the Court of Henry VIII." In two volumes. Henry Col- 
burn, Great Marlborough Street, 1847. 

THIS is a very valuable addition to the able historical memoirs already 
published by Mrs. Thompson. Among the past Queens consort or regnant 
of England, few rank higher than Caroline wife of George II. To her wise 
influence, and active administration, the house of Hanover owes not a little 
its permanent establishment on the throne of this country : her sagacity 
protected the new dynasty from its enemies, and her amiability first made 
it agreeable to the people. Indeed, from the accession of her well disposed but 
lethargic husband, to the period of her own death, the government was more 
or less continually confided to her controul. The history of such a princess 
must therefore prove of more than common interest, and especially so, when 
given in the memoirs of a person so closely attached to her person and for- 
tunes as her favourite, the Viscountess Sundon is known to have been. 
But we had better refer to Mrs. Thompson's own account of this book in 
her preface : it runs as follows : 

"The materials of this work are supplied, chiefly, from a Collection of Autograph 
Lady was attached to the Court of our first Hanoverian Sovereign, being Lady of 
the Bedchamber, and eventually Mistress of the Robes, to Caroline, Princess of 
Wales, afterwards Queen-Consort of George the Second. Lady Sundon, long 
before her husband's elevation to the Peerage, and whilst she retained the appella- 
tion by which she is mentioned in much of the correspondence of the day that of 
Mrs. Clayton attained such a degree of influence over -her Royal Mistress, as 
perhaps had hardly ever been enjoyed by any female favourite since the days of 
Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. It is not surprising, therefore, that the Letters 
given in the present Work should contain applications "from individuals of every 
rank and profession. Nor where the higher orders among her own sex backward 
in soliciting her aid, or in courting but seldom without a selfish motive her 

Mrs. Thompson thus describes Queen Caroline. 

" From her earliest connexion with the Hanoverian family, Caroline had been 
resolved to govern the Prince to whom she was affianced, in an ill assorted union, 
with a gentle but firm hand. Independently of her powerful understanding, her 
personal advantages tended to ensure this object. She was, at the time of her 
marriage, extremely^ handsome ; and, even after the ravages of the small-pox, 
which occurred shortly afterwards, retained a countenance replete with animation, 
exhibiting, at will, either mildness or majesty ; * and her penetrating eyes,' ob- 
serves one who had often gazed upon her,* ' expressed whatever she had a mind 
they should.' Her voice was melodious, her hands were beautifully formed, and 
her actions were graceful. 

* Horace Walpole. 



(t These charms were continually acknowledged, and extolled, by the gross and 
illiterate monarch, who could admire the beauty of her form, and delight in her 
personal advantage*, but who was wholly incapable of appreciating her love of 
letters, which he discouraged, or her generosity, which he opposed, while forcing 
her to bear the odium of his avarice. 

" The extreme devotion of the Queen to her consort has been by some ascribed 
to ambition, to the love of ascendancy ; others, more amiable, have ventured to 
couple it with aifection. If we may give entire credit to the religious sentiments 
of Caroline, we may set it down as the effect of a strong sense of duty ; and, in- 
deed, it is scarcely possible that any less cogent motive could have actuated a 
woman, during the course of an union of thirty years, to an incessant sacrifice of 
self-will, to the most differential respect, the most entire acquiescence, than a con- 
viction that such sacrifices were required by her nuptial bonds. ' Her children,' 
she declared, ' were not as a grain of sand to her, compared with him ;' and she 
marked these extreme notions of duty on her death-bed." 

The opera in those days, as at the present time, seems to have engaged the 
attention of royalty. Then, as now, the cabals of the musical world were 
apt to move the whole orb of fashion. 

" The following letter/' says Mrs. Thompson, " contains a curious illustration of 
the times, in its reference to the commotion which occurred at the Italian Opera, 
when the Princess Amelia happened to be present. The object of public dis- 
approbation was Signora Cuzzoni ; but that favourite singer having a powerful 
body of friends in the house, a struggle took place between the two parties, 
which caused the greater part of the performance to be in ' inexplicable dumb 
show/ This letter affords a curious instance of the participation of the most 
illustrious personages of the realm in the cabals of the Italian Opera, which had 
not then been introduced more than half a century into England. 



" I hope you will forgive the trouble I am going to give you, having al- 
ways found you on every occasion most obliging. What I have to desire is, that 
if you find a convenient opportunity, I wish you would be so good as to tell her 
Royal Highness, that every one who wishes well to Cuzzoni is in the utmost con- 
cern for what happened last Tuesday at the Opera, in the Princess Amelia's pre- 
sence ; but to show their innocence of the disrespect which was shown to her 
Highness, I beg you will do them the justice to say, that the Cuzzoni had been 
publicly told, to complete her disgrace, she was to be hissed off the stage on 
Tuesday ; she was in such concern at this, that she had a great mind not to sing, 
but I, without knowing anything that the Princess Amelia would honour the 
Opera with her presence, positively ordered her not to quit the stage, but let them 
do what they would : though not heard, to sing on, and not to go off till it was 
proper ; and she owns now that if she had not had that order she would have 
quitted the stage when they cat- called her to such a degree in one song, that she 
was not heard one note, which provoked the people that like her so much, that 
they were not able to get the better of their resentment, but would not suffer the 
Faustina to speak afterwards. I hope her Royal Highness would not disapprove 
of any one preventing the Cuzzoni' s being hissed off the stage ; but I am in great 
concern they did not suffer anything to have happened to her, rather than to have 
failed in the high respect every one ought to pay to a Princess of her Royal 
Highness's family ; but as they were not the aggressors, I hope that may in some 
measure excuse them. 

" Another thing I beg you would say is, that I, having happened to say that 
the Directors would have a message from the King, and that her Royal Highness 
had told me that his Majesty had said to her, that if they dismissed Cuzzoni they 
should not have the honour of his presence, or what he was pleased to allow them 
some of the Directors have thought fit to say that they neither should have a 


message from the King, and that he did not say what her Royal Highness did 
me the honour to tell me he did. I most humbly ask her Royal Highness' s par- 
don for desiring the Duke of Rutland (who is one of the chief amongst them for 
Cuzzoni) to do himself the honour to speak of it to her Royal Highness, and hear 
what she would be so gracious to tell him. They have had also a message from 
the King, in a letter from Mr. Fabrice, which they have the insolence to dispute, 
except the Duke of Rutland, Lord Albemarle, and Sir Thomas Pendergrass. Lady 
Walsingham having desired me to let her know how this affair went, I have writ- 
ten to her this morning, and, at the Duke of Rutland's desire, have sent an 
account of what was done at the Board, for her to give his Majesty. 

As I have interested myself for this poor woman, so I will not leave anything 
undone that may justify her ; and if you will have the goodness to state this affair 
to her Royal Highness, whom I hope will still continue her most gracious protec- 
tion to her, I shall be most extremely obliged to you, that am, 

Dear Madam, 

With the most sincere friendship, 
Your most affectionate 

humble servant, 


These memoirs of Lady Sundon contain indeed a perfect fund of historical 



Adams, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Herbert Geo. Adams, 

of a dau. 29th May. 
Alexander, Mrs. Robert, of a dau. at Carlton House 

Terrace, llth June. 
Allen, Mrs. wife of George Baugh Allen, Esq. of a 

son, 9th June. 
Anderson, Mrs. Major, of a son, at Clifton, 27th 

Arkwright, Mrs. wife of Alfred Arkwright, Esq. of a 

dau. at Worksworth, co. Derby, 6th June. 
Bacon, Mrs. wife of the Rev. John Bacon, of a son, 

at Lambourne, Woodlands, Berks, 31st May. 
Baggallay, Mrs. John, of a son, at Tavistock Square, 

llih June. 

Baillie, Hon. Mrs. Henry, of a dau. 1st June. 
Barlow, Mrs. W. H. of a son, at Derby, 2Qth May. 
Barton, Mrs. Daniel, of a son, at Edinburgh, 29th 

Bell, Mrs. Sydney Smith, of a son, at Regent's Park 

Terrace, 28th May. 

Bennett, Mrs. Wm. Sterndale, of a son, llth June. 
Benthall, Mrs. John, of a dau. at Furzwell House, 

Torquay, 26th May. 
Berkeley, Mrs. Comyns Rowland, of a son, 30th 

Bevir, Mrs. E. J., of a son, at Woburn Square, 2nd 

Biggs, Mrs. wife of John Biggs, Esq. H. M. 8th 

Kegt. of a dau. at Poona, 21st April. 
Braithwaite, Mrs. Robt. of a dau. at Kendal, 6th 

Bright, Mrs. wife of James Bright, Esq. M. D. of a 

dau. 27th May. 
Browell, Mrs. wife of the Rev. James Browell, M. A. 

of a dau. 16th June. 
Brown, Mrs. wife of R. Brown, Esq. M,D. of a dau. 

at Kevernalls, near Lymington, 28th May. 
Bryant, Mrs. George, at Park-street, Islington, of 

a son, 1st June. 
Buckle, Mrs.widow of Capt. Edmund Buckle, Bengal 

Art. of a son, 3rd June. 
Calland, Mrs. John Forbes, of a dau. at Paris, 28th 


Charteris, Lady Anne, of a son, 2nd June. 
Charters, Mrs. Major, of a dau. at Padua, 18th 

Clarke, Mrs. W. Gray, of a dau. at Tours, 10th 

Cliff, Mrs. William, of a dau. at Brompton, 16th 

Cosser, Mrs.wife of the Rev.W. M. Cosser, of a son, 

at Tichfield. 30th May. 
Crosse, Mrs. Edward Wilson, of a dau. at Torring- 

ton Square, 2nd June. 
Crosthwaite, Mrs. wife of the Rev. J. C. Crosth- 

waite, of a dau. 3rd June. 
De la Motte, Mrs. wife of Edward De la Motte, of 

the Royal Military College, Sandhurst, of a 

dau. SlstJMay. 
Douglas, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Alexander Douglas, 

of a son, at Harley-street, 12th June. 
Downe, the Viscountess, of a son, 15th June. 
Drew, Mrs. wife of the Rev. G. S. Drew, Incum- 
bent of old St. Pancras, of a son, 13th June. 

Du Ruisson, Mrs. James, of Wandsworth, of a 

dau. 1st June. 
Ellis, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Robt. Stephenson 

Ellis, M. A. of a dau. at Copenhagan, 30th May. 
Esdaile, Mrs. Clement, of a dau. 29th May. 
Farmer, Mrs. W. F. G. of a son, at Nonsuch Park, 

Surrey, 26th May. 
Fennell, Mrs. Edwin, of a dau. at Wimbledon, 25th 

Frost, Mrs. wife of Andrew Hollingworth Frost, 

Esq. M. A. of a son, 8th June. 
Giberne, Mrs. George, of a dau. at Epsom, 7th June. 
Gipps, Mrs. H. P. of a son, at Montague Place, 

4th June. 
Goddard. Mrs. George H. of a dau. at John-street, 

4th June. 
Godden, Mrs. of Watford, Herts, of a dau. 21st 

Godley, Mrs. John Robert, of a son, at Portman 

Square, 17th June. 
Graham, Mrs. Wm. of a dau. at Castle Milk, co. 

Lanark, 6th June. 

Granet, Mrs. Captain, of a son, 26th May. 
Gruner, Mrs. Lewis, of a dau. at Fitzroy Square, 

31st May. 

Heathcote, Mrs. Francis, of a dau. 29th May. 
Herring, Mrs. wife of the Rev. W. Harvey Herring, 

of a son, 5th June. 
Inchbald, Mrs. Robert, of a dau. at WestWickham, 

Kent, 12th June. 
Jackson, Mrs. J. D. of a son, at Saffron Waldron, 

5th June. 

Jackson, Mrs. wife of the Rev. John Jackson, Rec- 
tor of St. James', of a dau. 29th May. 
Kerry, Countess of, of a dau. 27th May. 
Kinglake, Mrs. Ssrjeant, of a dau. at Eaton Square, 

15th June. 
Kinlock, Mrs. wife of J. J. Kinlock, of Kair, of a 

dau. Srd^June. 
Laurie, Mrs. John, of a son. at Hyde Park-phsce, 

31st May. 

Lyttleton, Lady, of a son, 12th June. 
Mac Leod, wifs of Capt. Norman Mac Leod, Ben- 

gal Engineers, of a dau. at South Crescent, Bed- 
Majoribanks, Mrs. Edward, jun. of a son, 13th 

Marston, Mrs. Thomas, of a son, at Ampthill 

Square, 2nd June. 
Martin, Mrs. Wm. of Hyde Park Square, of a son, 

29th May. 

Masterman, Mrs. Henry, of a son, 26th May. 
Oakes, Mrs. Col. R. M. of a son, at Dineham 

Lodge, Norfolk, 6th June. 
Oliver, Mrs. wife of J. R. Oliver, Esq. M.D. of a 

son, at Kennington, 10th June. 
Peake, Mrs. Robert William, of Lleweny House, 

New Finchley Road, of a dau. 28th May. 
Pelly, Mrs. Albert, of a son, at Walthamstow, 

29th May. 
Phillips, Mrs. Robert, of a dau. at Gloucester Villa, 

Regent's Park, 10th June. 
Place, Mrs. F. W. of a dau. at Delhi, East Indies, 

19th April. 



\vlinson, Mrs. wife of the Rev. George rtawlin- 
i, of a dau. at Merton, 7th June. 

Kind, Mrs. wife of Malcolm M'Neill Rind, Esq. Taylor, Mrs. Wilbraham, of a son, 27th May. 

Taylor. Mrs. James, of Mechlenburgh Square, of a 
son, 10th June, 

Ben. Med. Est. of a son, at Lucknow,28th March 
Rivers, Lndy, of a dau. 24th May. 
Robertson, Mrs. of a son, at Albermarle-street, 

28th May. 
Rowland, Mrs. wife of Capt. J. H. Rowland, J. N, 

of a dau. 2nd June. 
Boyle, Mrs. wife of Dr.|Royle, Professor King's Col- 

Jege, of a son, 8th June. 

Salmond, Mrs. James, of a son, atWaterfoot, Cum- 
berland, 1 6th June. 
Saunders, Mrs. John, of a son, at Southend, 2nd 

Sharpe, Mrs. John, of a dau. at Walthara Cross 

10th June. 
Sheppard, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Wm. Sheppard, o 

a dau. at Florena Court, co. Fernian 28th May 
Skinner, Mrs. wife of Allan Maclain Skinner, Esq. 

Barister-at-Law, of a dau. at Brighton, 7th June. 
Scares, Mrs. M. J. of a dau. at Fitzroy-Squre, 3rd 

Spicer, Mrs. John W. Gooch, of a dau. at Coth- 

more, 26th May. 
Stillwell, Mrs. Arthur, of a son, at Hillingdon, 

6th June. 
Sutherland, Mrs. Alexander John, of a son, 5th 

Swindell, Mrs. J. G. of a dau, at Kilburn Priory, 
. 4th June. 

feake, Mrs. Robt. William, of Llewy House, New 

Finchley Road, of a dau. 28th May. 
Tickell. Mrs. Major-Gen, of a dau. 24th May. 
Titcomb, Mrs. wife of the Rev. J. T. Titcomb, of 

a dau. at Cambridge, 10th June. 
Todd, Mrs. Joseph, of a dau. at Mousley Park, 

Surrey, 2nd June. 

Tuffnell, Mrs. E. Carleton, of a son, 13th June. 
Turner, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Sydney Turner, of a 

dau. 1st June. 
Turner, Mrs. Marshall, of a son, at Torrington Sq. 

29th May. 
Tyndall, Mrs. T. O. of a dau. at the Fort, Bristol, 

13th June. 
Unwin, Mrs. wife of W. Unwin, Esq. of a son, at 

Putney, 6th June. 
Vardy, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Charles Fox Vardy, 

M. A. of a dau. 6th June. 

West, Mrs. William Thornton, of a dau. at Clap- 
ham Park, 2;th May. 
Willoughby, Mrs. Charles, of a son, at Wollaton 

Rectory, 13th June. 
Winkworth, Mrs. Stephen, of a dau. at Purbrook 

Lodge, Hants, 25th May. 
Winter, Mrs. wife of Charles Winter, Esq. late Capt. 

66th Regiment, of a dau. 15th June. 
Wood, Lady Mary, of a dau. 27th May. 
Woodhouse, Mrs. Henry R. of a son, 16th June. 

Aspinall, Henry [Kelsall, youngest son of the late 

;, John Aspinall, Esq., of Birkenhead, to Margaret, 
only daughter of John Haselden, Esq., of Rock 
Ferry, 8th June. 

Athill, the Rev. William, of Brandistone-hall, 
county of Norfolk, and Sub- Dean of the 
Collegiate Church of Middleham, in York- 
shire, to Caroline Amelia Halsted, only daughter 
of the late Captain John Halsted, R.N., 8th 

Baird, Charles J. Esq., late of Shptts, to Elizabeth, 
youngest daughter of John Haliday, Esq., of St. 
Petersburgh, llth May. 

Banks, William , Esq., of London, to Miss Mar- 
garet Banks, of Snelston, 15th June. 

Blackeney, John, Esq., of Bedford-row, to Sarah, 
eldest daughter of Henry Lamb, Esq. of Havrley, 
Kent, 10th June. 

Blackburn, Robert B., Esq., son of the late John 
Blackburn, Esq., of Killearn, in the county of 
Stirling, to Francis Georgina, youngest daughter 
of the late Rev. Edward Dewing, rector of Rain- 
ham, in Norfolk, 10th June. 

Bladon, Edward, Esq., of Warwick-square, Ken- 
sington, to Louisa, eldest daughter of Charles 
Whiting, Esq., of Grove-road, Brixton, 10th 

Bliss, Frederick, Esq., of Pensile-house, Glouces- 
tershire, youngest son of the late Thomas Bliss, 
Esq., of Herne-hill, Surrey, to Caroline, third 
daughter of the late Samuel Charles Turner, 
Esq., of Child Okeford, in the county of Dorset, 
10th June. 

Bloxam. Robert W lliam, Esq., of Ryde, to Henri- 
etta Louisa, only child of the late Henry Lock, 
Esq., of the Hon. E.I.C.S., and granddaughter 
of the late Vice-Admiral Lock, of Haylands, Isle 
of Wight, 10th June. 

Ho/uior, the Rev. R. M., vicar of Ruabon, Den- 

bighshire, to Ellen, daughter of the lite John 
Wood, Esq., of Worthing, 8th June. 

Boyrenson, Thomas Adolphus, Esq., M.D., of the 
Hon. Company's Bombay Army, to Augusta 
Marianne, only daughter of the late Francis 
Swinfen, Esq., of Lapley, Stafford, 5th June. 

Bright, John, Esq., of Rochdale, M.P., to 
Margaret Elizabeth, eldest daughter of the late 
William Leatham, Esq., banker, Wakefield, 10th 

Broughton, Robert John Porcher, Esq., M.A., 
eldest son of Robert Edwards Broughton, Esq., 
of Melcombe-place, to Louisa Diana, eldest 
daughter of Charles Heaton Ellis, Esq., of 
Harley-street and Wyddial-hall, Herts, 3rd June. 

Browne, Henry J., Esq., of Wilmington-square, 
London, surgeon, (late of Hampton, in the 
county of Worcester), to Elizabeth, younger 
daughter of the late James Coucher, Esq., of 
Alfrick, in the same county, 25th May. 

Burgess, Arthur James, eldest son of John Hartley 
Burgess, Esq., of St. Heliers, Jersey, to Jane, 
youngest daughter of the late John Slade, Esq., 
of Devizes, Wilts, 5th June. 

Burrell, Walter Wyndham, youngest son of Sir 
Charles Merrick Burrell, of Knepp Castle, in the 
county of Sussex, to Dorothea, youngest dau. of 
the Rev. John Jones, vicar of Burley-on-the-Hill, 
Rutlandshire, 10th June. 

Carrow, John Monson, Esq., eldest son of the late 
Rev. Richard Carrow, of Redland, Glocester- 
shire, to Frances Gertrude, daughter of Edmund 
Broderip, Esq., of the Manor-house, Cossing- 
ton, 26th May. 

Caulfeild, W. Montgomerie S., Esq., Lieut, of the 
66th Regiment, son of Capt. James Caulfeild, 
R.N., to Dora Jane, daughter of Wm. French, 
of Clooniquine, county of Roscommon, and of 
Fitzwilliam-Bquare, Dublin, Esq., 8th June. 



Chambers, Joseph, Esq., of the Bengal Army, to 
Maria, eldest daughter of the Rev. Sir Juhn 
Page Wood, Bart., 10th June. 

Clifford, Charles, Esq., eldest son of George Clif- 
ford, Esq., of Wycliffe-hall, Yorkshire, to Mary 
Ann, third daughter of John Hercy, Esq., of 
Hawthorn hill, Berkshire, 13th Jan. 

Cochrane, James, Esq., of her Majesty's IQth 
Regiment, to Mary, daughter of Thomas Gibson 
Brewer, Esq., of Elm-lodge, Pinner, Middlesex, 
and Portland-place, Jersey, barrister- at- law, 10th 

Collette, Henry, Esq., Capt. 67th Regiment, eldest 
son of the Major General J. H. Collette, to 
Katherine, youngest daughter of the late Thos. 
Sharp, Esq., Manchester, 25th May. 

Colman, George A. Esq., youngest son of the 
late W. Colman, Esq., of Shirley,! to Frederica 
Eleanor Lang, second surviving daughter of Dr. 
Lang, of Bedford-square, and Newman-street, 
9th June. 

Cooke, the Rev. Wm., B.A., fourth son of Thos. 
Cooke, Esq., of Goresfield, near Manchester, tJ 
Fanny, second daughter of the late Rev. G. J. 
Haggitt, of Bury St. Edmund's, 27th May. 

Cope, Charles Rogers, Esq., of Harbourne, Staf- 
fordshire, to Sarah Ann, eldest daughter of the 
late Edward Rickards, Esq., l6th June. 

Cousin, the Rev. Wm., of the Presbyterian Church, 
Chelsea, to Anne Ross, daughter of the late 
David Ross Cundell, Esq., M.D., 15th June. 

Crosley, Benjamin Charles, only son of he late 
Benjamin Ashward Crosley, Esq., of Great 
James-street, Bedford-row, to Mary Ann, third 
daughter of John Mountfield, Esq., of Great 
Coram-street, Russell-square, 15th June. 

Curry, Capt. Douglas, R.N., son of Vice-Admiral 
Curry, C.B., to Elizabeth, second daughter of 
Edward Castleman, Esq., of Allandale-hoase, 
Wimborne, and of Chettlc, Dorset, 10th June. 

Daly, Owen, Esq., M.D. and B.A., second son of 
the late E. Daly, Esq., of .Mornington-hall, 
Westmeath, Ireland, to Emma Maria, yonngest 
daughter of the late Thomas Oldham, Esq., of 
Saltrleetby St. Peter's. 

Dundas, Frederick, Esq., M.P., son of the late 
Hon. Charles Lawrence and Lady Caroline 

. Dundas, to Grace, eldest daughter of Lady 
Grace and the late Sir Ralph Gore, Bart., 2nd 

Eaton, the Rev. Walter, M.A., of Merton College, 
Oxford, to Isabella, youngest daughter of G. F. 
Iddius, Esq., of the Woodrow, Worcestershire, 
14th June. 

Edwards, James, Esq., M.D., to Eliza Ellen, dau. 
of the late Jonathan Smith, Esq., 8th June. 

Everett, Marven, youngest son of the late Wm. 
Marven Everett, Esq., Heytesbury, Wiltshire, to 
Maria, eldest daughter of Mill Pellatt, Esq., 
Plaistow, Essex, 15th June. 

Fox, the Rev. R. Stole, youngest son of George 
Townsend Fox, Esq., of Durham, to Mrs. Robt. 
Day, eldest .daughter of the late Rev. W 
Bassett, of Nether-hall, in the county of Suffolk 
9ih June. 

Frere, A. E., Esq., Lieut, in her Majesty's 24th 
Regiment, to Miss Elizabeth Palmer, daughter 
of Quartermaster James Price, of the tame 
regiment, llth Jan. 

Frost, Chas. Maynard, Esq., of Ladbroke Grove 
Netting Hill, third son of the late Roht. Frost, 
Esq , of the Hon. E.I.C.S., to Emma, youngest 

_ daughter of the late James Adams, Esq., o; 
Plaistow, Essex, 10th June, 

Gale, Robert Leake, Esq., eldest son of Thomas 
Augustus Gale, Esq., of Queen-square, Blooms- 
bury, London, to Mary Ellen, eldest daughter of 
Wm. Radcliff, Esq., of Amherst Island, IQtb 

Gayton, George, Esq., of Much Hadham, Herts, t 

Sarah Anne, eldest surviving daughter of Thos. 

Samuel Mott, Esq., of the same place. May 29th. 

Gilstrap, Win., cldestsonof Joseph Gilstrap, Eai|., 

of Newark- ou-trent, Notts, to Elizabeth, 

youngest daughter of Thomas Haigh, Esq., of 
Colne Bridge-house, Huddersfield, 2nd June. 

Girsewald, Baron A., Aide-de-Camp to his Royal 
Highness the reigning Duke of Brunswick, to 
Annie Fector Munro, daughter of the late Gene- 
ral Munro, Novar-lodge, Cheltenham, 1st June, 
ranville, the Rev. Court, to Lady Charlotte Mur- 
"ray, sister of the Duke of Atholl, 10th June. 

Grover, Charles Ehret, Esq., of Kernel Hamp- 
stead, Herts, to Jane, youngest daughter of the 
late Wm. Stanley, Esq., of Maryland point, 
Essex, 1st June. 

Hallett, Henry Hughes, Esq., of Staple- Inn," to 
Bridget Ann, second daughter of Charleg Wm. 

~ Hallett, Esq., of Surbiton-lodge, Kingston, 15th 

Harris, John Hull Walton, Esq., to Ann, relict of 
the late Thomas Martin Cocksedge, Esq., of the 
The Hills, Bury St. Edmund's, 12th June. 

Henry, Win. G. P., Esq., second son of Thomas 
Henry, Esq., of Bush-hill, Middlesex, to 
Alice, second daughter of the late John Home 
Scott, Esq., 8th June. 

Hicks, Wm. John, Esq., son of the late Lieut- 
Col. Join Hicks, Esq., to Katherine Forbes, 
eldest daughter of the late Major- General Hogg, 
Bombay Army, 10th June. 

ffilton, the Rev. Henry Dennie, B.A., curate of 
St. Margarett's, and son of the Rev. John Hilton, 
M.A., of Star Court, Kent, to Anne Jane, elder 
daughter of the Rev. Jemson Davies, M.A., vicar 
of St. Nicholas, and confrater of Wigston's 
Hospital, Leicester, 3rd June. 

Hutchings, Hubert, Esq., to Geraldine Laura, 
third daughter of Lady Elizabeth Baker, and 
sister of Sir Edward B. Baker, Bart., of Ran- 
ston, Dorset. 10th June. 

Innes, Captain G., Royal Artillery, to Frances 
Caroline, widow of the late Hamilton Gyll, Esq., 
and daughter of Sir John Murray, of Stanhope, 
Bart., 3rd June. 

Jarrett, Mr. Griffith, fourth son of J. Jarrett, Esq., 
Glasfryn-house, Trawsfynydd, \ to Elizabeth, 
youngest daughter of the late T. Rowlands, 
Llwyngwern, Machynlleth, 26th May. 

Kelgour, Wm., Esq., of Liverpool, son of the late 
Geo. Kilgour, Esq., of Woburn-place, London, 
and Balcairn, Aberdeenshire, to Janet Lindsay, 
dau. of the late Patrick Smith, Esq., of Glas- 
gow, l6th June. 

Kirk, Rupert, Esq., of the E.I.C.S., to Elizabeth, 
eldest daughter of Robert Womersley, Esq., of 
Stratford-green, Essex, 1st June. 

Landor, the Rev. Chas. W., vicar of Wichenford, 
Worcestershire, to Caroline, youngest daughter 
of Wm. Stanton, Esq., of Longbridge-house, 
Warwickshire, 8th June.; 

Lane, Edward W., Esq., advocate, to Margaret 
Mary, youngest daughter of the late Sir Wm. 
Drysdale, of Pitteuchar. 

Layard, Rev. C. Clement, vicar of Mayfield, Staf- 
fordshire, son of the Rev. B. V. Layard, of 
Uffington, Lincolnshire, to Sarah, eldest dau. of 
the late S. J. Somes, Esq., of Stratl'ord-green, 
Essex,, 3rd June. 

Lendon, Rev. William Penry, of Monmouth, to 
Eliza, eldest daughter of the Rev. E. Withers, 
of Bognor, Sussex, 9th June. 

Madden, Lewis P., Esq. M.D., son of the late 
Lewis P. Madden, Esq. of Clifton, to Ellen, re- 
lict of Captain Sir Edward Astley, R.N., of Hay- 
selden, Kent, 14th June. 

Maxwell, Lieut-Colonel Sir William A., Bart., of 
Calderwood , Castle, Lanarkshire, to Catherine 
Cameron, relict of the late Captain H. P. Gill, 
of the 50th or Queen's Own, and fifth daughter 
of the late Walter Logan, Esq., Edinburgh, 15th 

Meeson, John, Esq., third son of Thomas Meeson, 
Esq. of Stratford, co. Essex, to Anne Maria, 
fourth daughter of William Sewell, Esq. of Plai- 
stow, in the same county, 1st June. 

Monypenny.R.'C.G.Gybbon, Esq., eldest son of T. 
Gybbon Moneypenny, Esq. of Hole-house, Kent, 



to Janet Phillips, eldest daughter of the late 
Lieut. -Col. Burney, B.N.I., 2nd June. 
Morgan, Henry C. Esq., Lieut, in the King's Dra- 
goon Guards, to Selina Louisa, third daughter of 
Sir East Clayton-East, of Hall-place, Berks, 

Nicolson, Sir Fred.W. E., Bart., Captain R.N., to 
Mary Clementina Marion, only daughter of James 
Loch, Esq., M.P., 26th May. 
Nind, Philip Pitt, Esq., son of the late Capt. P. P 
Nind, Hon. East India Company's Service, t 
Charlotte Johnston, third surviving daughter o 
the late Major John Maugham, R.M., 9th June 
Oakeley, Henry, Lieut. R.N., fifth son of the late 
Rev. Herbert Oakeley, D.D., of Oakeley, Salop 
to Emily Letitia, third daughter of the late Col 
Trelawney, R.A., and niece of Sir William Salus 
bury Trelawney, Bart., 1st June. 
Palmer, William James, only son of James Palmer 
Esq. of the Close, Lichfield, to Mary Spencer 
daughter of Robert Onebye Walker, Esq. o 
Bedford-square, Qth June. 

Park, Chas. Joseph, eldest son of Charles Park,Esq 
of Henbury-house, Dorset, to Ellen Mary, seeonc 
dau. of the Rev. Charles Wicksted Ethelston, o 
Wicksted-hall, Cheshire, and Uplyme Rectory 
Devon, 10th June. 

Patient. Ambrose, eldest son of Ambrose Patient 
Esq. of Gorton, Wilts, to Henrietta Sophia 
youngest daughter of the late William Wyndhsca 
Esq. of Dinton-house, Wilts, 5th June. 
Ilawlinson, Sir Christopher, eldest surviving son o 
John Rawlinson, Esq. of Wimpole - street, to 
Georgiana Maria, youngest daughter of the late 
Alexander Radcliffe Sidebottom, Esq. of Sloane 
street and Lincoln's-inn, 27th June. 
Rees, William, Esq. of Falcon Villa, Chelmsford, 
to Emma Jane, daughter of Jolm Carne, Esq. of 
Tresillion, Trnro, 3rd June. 

Kenny, Capt. Thomas, of the Bengal Engineers, 
eldest son of Alexander Renny Tailyour, Esq. of 
Borrowfield, co. Forfar, to Miss Isabella E. C. 
Atkinson, second daughter of the late Adam 
Atkinson, Esq. of Lorbottle, co. Northumber- 
land, orh June. 

Richmond, Daniel, Esq., surgeon, of Paisley, to 
; M'Kinnon, daughter of Col. 

Henrietta Fullerton 

A. F. Richmond, C.B., Resident at the Court of 
Oude, Lucknow, East Indies, 2nd June. 

Riddell, John Carre, Esq. of Melbourne, Port Phi- 
lip, one of the magistrates for the colony, third 
son of the late Thomas Riddell, Esq. of Camies- 
town, Roxburgh, to Anne, eldest dau. of Sidney 
Stephen, Esq. Barrister at Law, Melbourne, 22nd 
Oct. 1846. 

Kobarts, Rev. Alfred, only son of W. Robarts, 
Esq. of Burnham, Bucks, to Eliaa, Glover Moore, 
youngest dau. ol the late Rev. John Penketh 
Buee, Incumbent of Cawthorne, Yorkshire, 2nd 

Esq., late of the India-house, and of Herne-hill, 
Surrey, 12th June. 

Skrine, Rev. Wadham Huntley, second son of 
Henry Skrine, Esq. of Stubbings - house, co. 
Berks, and Warleigh, co. Somerset, to Clara 
Mary Anne, eldest daughter of William Mills, 
Esq. of Great Saxham-hall, Suffolk, 27th May. 

Smith, John Esq. of Bydorp-house, Hanwell, to 
Emily, only surviving daughter of the late Jasper 
Palfrey, Esq* of Finham, Warwickshire, 15th 

Springett, Robert, Esq. of Finchcox, Goudhurst, 
Kent, to Louisa, daughter of Robert Watkins, 
Esq. of Augusta house, Worthing, 27th June. 

Stevens, Henry H., to Florance Matilda, eldest 
daughter of the late Charles Shannon, Esq. of 
Dublin, Barrister-at-law, 10th June. 

Suttpn, Thomas Esq., B. A., of Caius College, Cam- 
bridge, to Mary, third daughter of the late John 
Grace, Esq. of Whitby, near Chester, 8th June. 

Thomas, Rev. William, D.D., late senior chaplain- 
at Madras, to Mrs. Williams, widow of the Rev. 
Richard Williams, prebendary of Lincoln, and 
rector of Great Houghton, Northamptonshire, 3d 

Thompson, Thomas Kirkby, Esq. ofMecklenburgh- 
square, to Harriett Alice, only daughter of the 
late J. Turner, Esq. of Ham-house, near Cow- 
bridge, Glamorganshire, 5th June. 

Thrupp, Rev. Horace W., B.A., of Exeter College. 
Oxford, to Gcorgina Theresa, second daughter of 
Mr. Pyle, of Barnes terrace, 12th June. 

Thuiilier, Henry Landor, Esq. of the Bengal Artil- 
lery, Officiating Deputy Survey or- General of In- 
dia, to Annie Charlotte, eldest dau. of George 
Gordon Macpherson, Esq., 8th April. 

Tilt, Edward John, Esq., M.D., of 10, Norfolk - 
street, Park lane, to Dorothy Emma, daughter of 
the late J. G. Sparrow, Esq of Gosficld-place^ 
Essex, 27th April. 

Jniacke, Rev. Richard John, B.A., of St. Alban's 
Hall, Oxford, rector of Newport, to Ann J;me, 
youngest daughter of the Venerable Robt. Willis, 
D.D., Archdeacon of Nova Scotia, 1st June. 

Vagstaff, J., Esq., of Lullington, near Burton-on 
Trent, to Fanny, fourth daughter of John Mt-e, 
Esq. East Retford, 3rd June. 

Valker, Henry, son of Henry Walker, Esq. of 
Hampton-wick, to Sarah Ann, daughter of James 
Payne, Esq., High-street, Marylebone, 27th June. 
Wells, Capt. Francis Charles, of the 15th Bombay 
Native Infantry, to Barbara Emilia Susanna, 
daughter of Robert Thurnburn, Esq. of Alexan- 
dria, llth May. 

Wickenden, Thomas, eldest son of Thomas Wick- 

enden, Esq. of Frindsbury, Kent, to Maria, young- 
est daughter of Charles Harries, Esq. of Feu- 

church-street and Guildford - street, llussei-sq 
, 5th June. 

June. (Wilson, G. V. , Esq.. of White-house, Killybegs, 

Robinson, Charles Edward, Esq., io Mary, daugh- co. Donegal, Ireland, to Sophia, youngest dau. 

ofS. Sheldon, Esq., 10th June, ' 
Wilson, Rev. Benjamin, to Fanny Sherard, second 
daughter of the late Caryer bherard, Esq. 15th 

i*wuiu*vs*j vuai ico .raunaiu, juaij., iti J 

ter of the late Robert Brown llussel", Esq." of 
Streatham, Surrey, 3d June. 

Rye, Hubert Barnes, only son of Captain George 
Hubert Rye, R.N., of Bideford, Devon, to Eliza, 

third daughter of Mr. George Daniel, of Canon- 

Woolley, Thomas, third son of William Willey, 

Esq. of 1'eckham, to Sarah, second daughter of 
the late Thomas Kingsley, Esq. of the Grove, 
Camberwell, 3rd June. 

bury, 25th May. 
Santi, Chevalier Charles to Caroline Davie, 

second daughter of Sir H. Ferguson Davie, 

Bart., 3 1st May. | Wyllie, Stewart Eaton, youngest son of the late 

Scott, John, Esq., to Isabella, third daughter of Alexander Wyllie, Esq. of Thames Ditton, Sur- 

the late Robert Carnachan, Esq. of Stranracr,! rey, to Jemima, eldest daughter of Samuel Kidd, 

Galloway, 5th May. Esq. of Boulogne-sur Mer. 

Shoobridgc, T. B., Esq., Craythorne House, Ten- : Zwinger, James, Esq. of Havre, to Leonora, young- 

dcrdcn, to Mrs. Ball, widow of James lline Ball,! est daughter of A. A. Micvelle, Esq., of Gower- 

i street, Bedford-square, Oth June. 


Hnnotatett (JMritttarjn 

Abdy, Charlotte Georgina, wife of Lieut. 
Colonel Abdy, late of the East India 
Company's service, on their Madras es- 
tablishment, at Boulogne sur Mer, 2nd 

Ashby, Harry, Esq. at Plymouth, aged 69, 
13th June. 

Barstow, James Maltravers, only child of 
James Barstow, Esq. Barrister at Law, 
aged 11,12th June. 

Bates, Charles Chester, youngest son of the 
late John Henry Bates, Esq. of Denton, 
aged 32, 1st June. 

Bayne, William, Esq. J.P. and D.L. for 
Middlesex, at Newgrove,?aged 86, llth 

Baynes, Captain Thomas, formerly of the 
39th and 88th Regiments, at Brussels, 
27th May. This veteran served in the 
Peninsular campaign, and was present 
at Waterloo, where he acted as Aide- 
de-Camp to General Sir John Lam- 
bert, G.C.B. 

Beatson, Catherine B. C. C., second daugh- 
ter of the late Major-General Beatson, 
of Henley house, Frant, and formerly 
Governor of St. Helena, at Edinburgh, 
6th June. 

Beckett, the Rt. Hon. Sir John, Bart, aged 
73, 31st May. Sir John was the eldest 
son of Sir John Beckett, Bart, of Somerby 
Park, co. Lincoln, and grandson, mater- 
nally, of Dr. Wilson, Bishop of Bristol. 
He received his education at Trinity Col- 
lege, Cambridge, and there greatly dis- 
tinguished himself, taking a wrangler's 
degree in 1795. His first return to Par- 
liament was by the Borough of Cocker- 
mouth, in 1820. He subsequently sat 
for Haslemere, and, finally, represented 
the populous town of Leeds. In the 
Duke of Wellington's administration he 
held the appointments of Judge-Marshal 
and Advocate-General ; and during Sir 
Robert Peel's short-lived Ministry of 
1834 resumed those offices. Politically, 
he adhered with firmness to Tory princi- 
ples, and voted against the Reform Bill, 
the Municipal Corporation Bill, and the 
Irish Tithe Measure. He had been a 
Privy Councillor since 1817. Sir John 
Beckett married in that year Lady Anne 
Lowther, daughter of Willium, Earl of 
Lonsdale, K.G. but lias died without 
issue; the title devolving on his brother, 
now Sir Thomas Beckett, Bart, the emi- 
nent banker of Leeds. 

Bellamy, Fanny Maria, youngest daughter 
of the Rev. J. W. Bellamy, at Sellinge 
Vicarage, 13th June. 

Bird, Lewis, only son of the late Rev. Lewis 
Bird, at Pennington Parsonage, aged 4 
30th May. 

Brackenbury, Sarah, relict of the late Ro- 
bert Carr Brackenbury, Esq. of Raithby 
hall, co. Lincoln, at Loughborough, 12th 

Buckle, Emma, eldest surviving daughte 
of the late Matthew Buckle, Esq. of 
Norton house, Chichester, 7th June. 

Burrard, Philip James, Esq. Student, Clare 
Hall, Cambridge, aged 21, llth June. 

Bush, Thomas, Esq. of Melbury terrace, 
aged 65, llth June. 

Calmann, Dr. Ludwig, at Hammersmith, 
aged 41, 6th June. 

Campbell, Lieutenant- General Sir Colin, 
K.C. B. Colonel of the 72nd Highlanders, 
and late Governor of Ceylon, after an 
illness of only three days, in King street, 
St. James's, 13th June. This distin- 
guished officer was fifth son of John 
Campbell, Esq. of Melfort,in Argyllshire, 
and brother of the late Admiral Sir Patrick 
Campbell. He was born in 1777, and 
joined the army in 1799, when he almost 
immediately entered on the active duties 
of his profession. His gallantry in the 
Peninsula soon won for him the notice of 
his illustrious Commander, and his name 
and exploits occupy no inglorious space 
in the official despatches. For a con- 
siderable time he held the appointments 
of Assistant- Adjutant- General and Assis- 
tant-Quartermaster-General ; and for his 
eminent services at Talavera, Busa^o, 
Fuentes d'Onor, Badajoz, Salamanca, 
Vittoria, the Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nives 
and Toulouse, he received a Cross and 
Six Clasps. At the consummating vic- 
tory of Waterloo, Colonel Campbell 
commanded the Royal Scots : and so 
conspicuous was his conduct on that me- 
morable occasion, that the officers of the 
regiment testified their admiration by the 
presentation of a sword valued at seventy 
guineas, and the Sovereign conferred, in 
recompense, the insignia of the Bath. 
Sir Colin was also invested with the orders 
of Maria Theresa, St. George, the Tower 
and Sword, and Maximilian Joseph of 
Bavaria. Subsequently, after acting for 
several years as Lieutenant-Governor cf 
Portsmouth, and holding the command 



of the South-West District, he was ap- 
pointed Lieutenant-Governor of Nova 
Scotia, and finally, in 1840, made Go- 
vernor of Ceylon, in which island he 
remained until the recent appointment 
of Lord Torrington. In, 1836 he became 
Colonel of the 7'2nd Highlanders, and in 
1838 reached the rank of Lieut. General. 
At the period of his decease, Sir Colin 
Campbell had just completed his 70th 
year. He married Miss Harden, dau. 
of Henry Harden, Esq. but was left a 
widower in 1838, with three sons and 
three daughters ; the former are Col. 
Fitzroy Camphell ; Lieut. A. Campbell, 
Aide-de-Camp to Sir Charles Napier in 
India; and Capt. F. Campbell, R.N. 
Of the daughters, the eldest, Maria 
Louisa, married first to Hon. C. F. Nor- 
ton, and second, to the Hon. Edmund 

Campbell, Dougal, Esq. M. D. half-pay 
Surgeon, Royal Artillery, at Boulogne 
sur Mer, where he had been practising as 
physician for upwards of 25 years, aged 
67, 22nd May. He claimed the earldoms 
of Annandale and Hartfell, and his bro- 
ther, the late Colonel William Claud 
Campbell, had claimed the earldoms of 
Crawford and Lindsay. 

Capher, the Rev. George, Vicar of Wher- 
stead, Suffolk, aged 30, 14th June. 

Chalmers, the Rev. Thomas, D.D. This 
eminent divine was born in 1776, and 
towards the beginning of the present cen- 
tury he commenced his distinguished 
theological career as Minister in the parish 
of Kilmany, in Fifeshire. He remained 
there for twelve years, and was translated 
to the Tron Church of Glasgow in 1815. 
During this time he produced his work 
on Natural Theology, and his " Sketches 
of Moral and Mental Philosophy." His 
" Evidences of the Christian Revelation ' 
were originally published in the " Ency 
clopaedia Britannica," under the manage- 
ment of Dr. Brewster. In Glasgow his 
astronomical and commercial discourses, 
so sensible, so profound, and so Christian, 
proved of incalculable benefit to the moral 
and social improvement of his fellow 
citizens aye, and to many thousands of 
his fellow men, both in and out of Scot- 
land. His work on the civic and Christian 
economy of large towns is of inestimable 
value. In 1823 Dr. Chalmers accepted 
the Chair of Moral Philosophy in the 
New College of St. Andrew's, where he 
remained until 1828, when he received 
the appointment of Theological Professor 
in the University of Edinburgh. From 
the period of his settlement at St. Andrew 
until his removal to Edinburgh, he pub- 
lished his works on " Endowment^" unc: 
on *' Political Economy," his "Bridge- 

water Treatise," and his " Lectures on 
the Romans." Altogether his published 
works form twenty-five ;volumes : their 
circulation has been very large. In 1843 
the Doctor resigned his Professorship in 
the University, and became Principal of 
the New College. The death of Dr. 
Chalmers was very sudden. He was found 
on the morning of the 31st ult. dead in 
his bed, to which he had retired the pre- 
vious night in apparent health. As the 
intellectual leader of the Free Church of 
Scotland, as an able writer and preacher, 
and as one of the best 4 of good men, Dr. 
Chalmers leaves behind him an undying 
reputation. The spiritual and earthly 
welfare of all men was the mainspring of 
his thoughts and actions. His t love and 
care extended to every class, but his heart 
was chiefly with the poor of his people. 
He devoted his great and comprehensive 
powers to their enfranchisement from sin 
and suffering. Under his influence, virtue 
and happiness have become the inmates 
of many, many cottage homes in Scotland. 

Chandler, William Botsford. Esq barrister 
at law, eldest son of the Hon. E. B. 
Chandler, of Dorchester, in the province 
of New Brunswick, llth June. 

Chichester, Sir Arthur, Bart, of Greencastle. 
Accounts from Ireland announce the de- 
cease of this gentleman. He represented 
a branch of the noble house of Donegal, 
and resided at Greencastle, in the county 
of that name. He was only son of the 
Rev. William Chichester, by Mary Anne, 
his first wife, daughter of George Harvey, 

, Esq. of Malin Hall, and obtained the 
patent of Baronetcy in 1821. 

Clarance, Louisa, widow of the late C. 
Clarance, Esq. of Lodge hall, co. Essex, 
at No. 14, Billiter street, the residence 
of her son, aged 83, 5th June. 

Colvin, James, Esq. of 71, Old Broad street, 
and of Little Bealings, co. Suffolk, at his 
house, 55, Manchester street, Manchester 
square, aged 80, 25th May. 

Cooke, Mary Anne, wife of the Rev. Wm. 
Cooke, Vicar of Bromyard, 28th May. 

Cotton, Louisa Decima, youngest daughter 
of the late Joseph Cotton, Esq. ofLayton, 
Essex, 9th June. 

Creed, Frances Gwynne, wife of Captain 
Henry Creed, Hon. Company's Artillery, 
and youngest dau. of Lieutenant General 
Sir David Ximenes, K.C.H. at Bombay, 
aged 21, llth April. 

Cutler, Clara Eliza, wife of Frank Cutler, 
Esq. Her Britannic Majesty's Vice Con- 
sul, at Le Bocage, near Bordeaux, 30th 

Dagley, Mrs. Mary, at Connaught square, 
3rd June. 

Dalton, Charlotte Amelia, wife of Mr. 
Francis Dalton, surgeon, and third dau. 



of the late John Bott, Esq. Secretary to 
the Privy Purse of his late Majesty Wil- 
liam IV. aged 34, 25th June. 

Debenham, John, Esq. Com. R.N. aged 
76, 15th June. 

De Brett, Mary Isabella, second surviving 
daughter of the late Capt. De Brett, of 
the Bengal Art. 8th June. 

Diggens, Francis, Esq. late Banker at 
Chichester, at Upper George street, 26th 

Ellerby, Mrs. Elizabeth, of Whitby, aged 
92, 13th June. 

Elton, Lieut. Col. late of the 1st Dragoon 
Guards, aged 63, 1st June. 

Essington, William Webb, Esq. of the Firs, 
Great Malvern, aged 61, 13th June. 

Eyston, Jane, widow of the late Basil 
Eyston, Esq. of East Hendred, Berks, at 
Overbury, Worcestershire, 7th June. 

Farrant, Thomas, Esq. of Norsted house, 
Kent, and Great Hale, Lincolnshire, at 
his house, 17, Montague- street, Portman 
square, aged 74, 6th June. 

Fawkes, Maria Sophia, relict of the late 
Walter Fawkes, Esq., of Farnley hall, 
Yorkshire, at Malvern, 4th June. 

Fitzgerald, Sir William, Bart, of Carrygo- 
ran, co. Clare, at Dublin, 30th May. He 
was son of Edward Fitzgerald, Esq. of 
Carrygoran, M.P. for the county of Clare, 
to whom Col. Augustine Fitzgerald, of 
Silver Grove, left a considerable portion 
of his large property ; and succeeded to 
the Baronetcy in 1834, at the decease of 
his brother, Lieut.-Gen. Sir Augustine 
Fitzgerald. Sir Wm. married, in 1305, 
Emilia Gumming, youngest daughter of 
William Veale, Esq. of Trevayler, in 
Cornwall, and niece of Sir Alexander 
Penrose Gumming Gordon, Bart, by whom 
he has left issue, three sons the eldest 
Sir Edward Fitzgerald, the present Bart. ; 
and one daughter Emilia Mary, wife of 
the Hon. James Butler, 5th son of Lord 

Flockton, Thomasine Mary, only child of 
the late Thomas Flockton, Esq. of Twick- 
enham, 13th June. 

Eraser, Lieut.-Col. K.H. formerly of the 
83rd Regiment of Infantry, and for 23 
years Fort-Major of Jersey, at Hounslow, 
where he had gone for the benefit of his 
health, 12th June. 

Frome, Harriet, widow of Wm. Castle 
Frome, late Lieut-Col. 22nd Regiment, 
29th May. 

Galloway, Margaret Bridger Goodrich, wife 
of the Rev. James Galloway, at the 
Rectory, Spaxton, Somersetshire, in the 
43rd year of her age, 8th June. 

Girling, William, gentleman, of Yaxham, 
youngest son of the late William Girling, 
Esq. of Twyford lodge and East Dere. 
ham, and Catherine, his first wife, dau. 
of Christopher Andrews, Esq. of Weston 

Longueville, Norfolk, at Mattishall hall, 
in his 83rd year, 29th April. 

Graham, Mrs. Penelope, at Belgrave house, 
Turnham Green, 22nd May. 

Gtyll, Grace, youngest dau. of Wm. Gyll, 
Esq. of Wraysbury, co. Bucks, aged 84, 
1st June. 

Hagerman, the Hon. Christopher Alexander, 
one of the Judges of her Majesty's Court 
of Queen's Bench, Upper Canada, at 
Toronto, in the aged56, 14th May. 

Harriott, the Rev. Wm., Vicar of Odiham, 
Hants, aged 57, llth June. 

Herbert, the Hon. and very Rev. William, 
L.L.D., Dean of Manchester, died on 
the 28th May, at his residence in Here- 
ford-street, Park lane. He has been 
somewhat of an invalid during the last 
two years, but his decease occurred unex- 
pectedly. On the morning of the day he 
died, he appeared better than usual, and 
went out; but about a quarter of an 
hour after his return home, he suddenly 
fell back in the chair and expired. Dr. 
Herbert was born in 1778, the third son 
of Henry first Earl of Carnarvon, by 
Eliza Alicia Maria, his wife, daughter of 
Charles Earl of Egremont. Thus, pater- 
nally and maternally, he derived descent 
from two of our most eminent families 
the Herberts and the Wyndhams. By 
Letitia Dorothea, his wife, daughter of 
Joshua fifth Viscount Allen, he leaves 
two sons and two daughters. 

Hewrett, Emily Jane, second dau. of Henry 
William Hewrett, Esq. at Chatham, 9th 

Hodges, George, Esq. late of Felton, Salop, 
aged 84, 3rd June. 

Hously, Samuel, Esq. of Gloucester terrace, 
Regents Park, 9th June. 

Hurst, Thomas, Esq. formerly of the firm 
of Longman and Co., aged 73, 2nd June. 

Hutton, Richard, Esq. Barrister at Law, 
at Newcastle on Tyne, llth June. 

Innes, John William, Esq. of the Admiralty, 
aged 68, 23rd May. 

Irton, Lieut.-Col. Richard, of the Rifle 
Brigade, aged 49, 9th June. 

Johnson, Barbara, third daughter of the 
late Charles Johnson, Esq. of Camber- 
well, 13th June. 

Jutting, Margaret, wife of John Henry 
Jutting, Esq. formerly of London, at 
Jersey, 13th June. 

Kent, Frances, wife of the Rev. Anthony 
Kent, of Oriel College, Oxon, 30th May. 

Koch, Geo. Peter, eldest son of Peter Koch, 
Esq. at Frankfort, aged 4 years, 6th June. 

Lawson, John, Esq. of Shooter's hill and 
Bexley heath, Kent, second son of the 
late John Lawson, Esq. of Bowness hill, 
in the co. of Cumberland, 5th June. 

Little, John, Esq. at Walthamstow, aged 87, 
2nd June. 

Maclean, Allan, eldest son of the late 



Lieut.-Gen., Sir Joseph Maclean, K.C.H. 
10th June.' 

M'Pherson, Elizabeth, second daughter of 
the late William North, Esq. of Chelsea, 
and widow of the late Alexander M'Pher- 
son, Esq., at her house, in Cadogan- 
place, 15th June. 

Magendie, Stuart, eldest son of the Rev. 
Stuart Magendie, Vicar of Longden, 4th 

Marriott, Sarah, wife of T. Marriott, Esq. 
at Pap ill on hall, co. Leicester, 13th June. 

Martin, Selina, wife of the Rev. Samuel 
Martin, Rectory, Warsop, Notts, 2nd 

Martin Thomas Byan, the eldest son of 
Capt. William Fanshawe Martin, Royal 
Navy, at Anglesey, near Gosport, 6th 

Milner, Col.^late of the 18th Dragoons, 
and brother of Sir William Mordaunt 
Milner, of Nun-Appleton, in the co. 
York, at Mickleham, on the 31st May. 

Murphy. Mary Ann, widow of the late Col. 
John Murphy, of Malaga, a Knight, of 
Alcantara, &c., at Montagu-place, Russell 
square, aged 58, 24th May. 

Odell, John, Esq. at Carreglea, co. Water- 
ford, 26th May. 

Pearson, Lieutenant-General Sir Thomas, 
K.C.H., at Bath. This gallant' officer, 
eon of the Rev. Thomas Horner Pearson, 
entered the army in 1796, and served 
against Flushing, in the Helder Expedi- 
tion, in Egypt, North America, the West 
Indies, and Portugal, and throughout the 
last American War. He received several 
severe wounds, and was one of the 
general officers who enjoyed rewards for 
distinguished services. He wore a medal 
and one clasp for his conduct as Major of 
the 23rd Foot at Albuera, and as second 
in command at Chrystler's Farm. He 
was born in 1782 ; and married r in 1810, 
a daughter of General Coffin. At the 
period of his decease, he held the Colo- 
nelcy of the 85th regiment. 

Paine, Wm. Pinke, Esq. at Farnham, aged 
64, 4th June. 

Papworth, John Buonarotti. The death of 
this gentleman, late Vice-president of the 
Royal Institute of British Architects, 
occurred recently, at his residence, Park 
End, St. Neot's; whither he had retired 
from London, after more than fifty years 
of professional practice. Early in life, 
his excellent judgment and kind heart 
acquired for him the intimacy of the 
leading artists ; and, also, the confidence 
of many wealthy amateurs as to the 
direction of their patronage, and as to the 
decoration of their mansions. In his 
practice, he originated and accomplished 
the adoption of the tasteful style of 
modern furniture ; which led to his selec- 
tion by Government for the trust of carry- 

ing out the formation of the Somerset - 
House School of Design. His work on 
Garden and Rural Architecture, were the 
result of his experience in Landscape 
Gardening, which he joined as a profes- 
sion with his other art. Amongst the 
clients to whom he owed an extremely 
varied practice, he numbered several of 
the late branches of the Royal Family, 
especially the Princess Charlotte : and 
also the present King of Wurtemberg, 
from whom he, having designed the 
English Park and Palace at Kaunstadt, 
received the appointment of Architect to 
his Maiesty. Mr. Papworth was highly 
respected, not only by his private friends 
and by his clients, but also by those 
severer judges, the members of his own 
profession. *_ 

Perry, John, Esq. Bencher of Gray's Inn, 
12th June. 

of Phillips, Thomas Bentley, Esq. at Beverley, 
aged 40, 10th June. 

Plaskett, Sir Richard, K.M.G., of Hampton 
House, Torquay, aged 66, 12th June. 
Sir Richard Plasket was the third son of 
Mr Thomas Flasket, of Clifford-street, 
London ; he was born in 1 782, and early 
in life filled an appointment in the Colo- 
nial Department. He was subsequently 
employed as private and public Secretary 
to the Governments at Ceylon, Malta, 
and the Cape of Good Hope. The im- 
portant duties of these official places he 
discharged for a period of twenty-six 
years with so much satisfaction to the 
Home Administration, that, in considera- 
tion of his eminent sevices, he was nomi- 
nated a Knight of the Order of St. Mi- 
chael and St George, on its institution 
in 1818. He married in 1836. 

Preston, Lady Baird, of Valleyfield and 
Frentown, widow of General the Right 
Hon. Sir David Baird, Bart. G.C.B., 
K.C. In the absence of issue by her 
marriage the estate of Valleyfield and 
Frentown descend to her sister, Miss 
Preston, at Valleyfield, Perthshire, 28th 

Rankin. the Rev. Francis John Harrison, 
B.A., Her Majesty's Colonial and Gar- 
rison Chaplain, at the Gambia, West 
Coast of Africa, aged 41, 28th March. 

Reed, Catherine, the wife of Assistant Com- 
missary-General Reed, at Corfu, Ionian 
Isles, aged 45. 

Richards, John, Esq. of Wassell Grove, 
Worcestershire, and of Calvert's-build- 
ings, Southwark, formerly High-Sheriff 
for the county of Worcester, and member 
in two successive parliaments for the 
borough of Knaresborough, aged 67. 

Robertdean, Lieutenant Colonel James Wra. 
late of the Bengal Cavalry, last surviv- 
ing son of the late ( John Peter Robert' 
dean,Esq. of Chelsea, aged 58, 15th June- 



Robertson, Major-General Archibald, o 
the Bombay Army, at Baker-street, 9th 

Robinson, Nathaniel, Esq. at Littlebury 
Essex, 23rd May. 

Konald, Robert, Esq. at the Elms, Derby 
23rd May. 

Roope, Cabel, Esq. late of Oporto, in Wo- 
burn square, aged 70, 8th June. 

Ross, Amelia, wife of Major- General Si 
Patrick Ross, Governor of St. Helen's 
and youngest daughter of the late Major- 
General William Sydenham, of the Hon 
East India Company's Service, al 
Brighton, 8th June. 

Scott, Emma Jane, widow of the late Major 
Hugh Scott, Deputy Adjutant Genera 
of the Madras Army, and eldest daughte: 
of the late Henry Harris, Esq. M.D. 
member of the Madras Medical Board 
at Bayswater, in the 52nd year of her 
age, 31st May. 

Selwyn, Albinia Frances, widow of the late 
Dr. Congreve Selwyn, at Cheltenham, in 
the 63rd year of her age, 29th May. 

Sheridan, Charles Kinnaird, Esq. youngest 
son of the late Thomas Sheridan, Esq, 
at the English Embassy, Paris, aged 30, 
30th May. 

SJade, Emma, wife of R. G. Slade, Esq. ol 
Gloucester street, Portman square, 10th 

Smith, Frances, widow of the Rev. Henry 
Smith, of Hyde park Place, llth June. 

Sommery, Madame la Marquise de, born 
Riquet de Caraman the last of eight 
brothers and sisters, all of whom had to 

, bear the storm of the French Revolution, 
its prisons, exile, wars, and other trials, 
yet all of whom reached an advanced age 
departed this life at Bath, in the 78th 
year of her age, 22nd May. She was 
born on the 28th of October, 1768; and 
was married to the late Marquess de 
Sommery in 1786, She was one amongst 
the last presentations at Versailles, during 
the splendour, pomp, and ceremony of 
the ancient Court, and attracted the ad 
miration of all by her grace and beauty ; 
but these personal ad^ antages added to 
others which she possessed, had no power 
to seduce her heart; misfortune soon 
taught her to despise the flattering illu- 
sions of this world, and she gave 
up without reserve to sentiments of piety 
and religion, and to the fulfilment 
affections and duties, from which nothing 
could withdraw her attention. She be- 
came the mother of fourteen children, of 
whom only six survive. During the trials 
of emigration she displayed heroic acts 
of devotedness, experienced all the severe 
privations of exile, and bore all with 
astonishing firmness and submission. 

Her religious and political convictions, 
joined to a sacred veneration for the me- 
mory of her cherished husband, who died 
in Bath in 1814 all concurred to induce 
her to fix her residence in England, where 
she sought refuge in the year 1795, after 
having passed a few years in Germany. 
It was by these considerations that she 
felt herself called upon to make the sa- 
crifice of family interests (interests, never- 
theless, most dear to her), and she never 
more saw her native land. 

Sorelli, Guido, translator of " Paradise 
Lost," at Church Place, Piccadilly, 28th 

Starkey, Thomas, Esq. of Springwood, 
Huddersfield, 25th May. The Leeds 
Mercury, of the 29th May, in announcing 
this melancholy event, thus refers to the 
great public loss sustained in the death of 
Mr. Starkey : " It is with feelings of 
sincere regret that we have this week to 
announce the death of Thomas Starkey, 
Esq. one of the West Riding Magistrates, 
which took place at 3 o'clock on Tuesday 
afternoon, at his residence at Springwood. 
Mr. Starkey we believe was at the ma- 
nufactory at Longroyd Bridge, (Starkey 
Brothers) on the Tuesday previous. The 
immediate cause of his death was a 
virulent attack of typhus fever. A gloom 
has thus suddenly been cast over the 
town as his loss will be heavily felt. He 
was an active and judicious magistrate, 
and bore the character of dispensing 
justice with impartiality. " The deceased 
gentleman, Thomas Starkey of Spring- 
wood, with his two elder brothers, Wil- 
liam Starkey of Wakefield, and John 
Starkey, Esq. of Thornton Lodge, J. P., 
and his younger brother, Joseph Starkey, 
Esq. of Heaton Lodge, near Hudders- 
field, J. P., were the four sons of 
the late John Starkey, Esq. of Wheat 
House, Huddersfield, by Abigail, his 
wife, daughter of William Dewhirst, 
Esq. of Warley, co. York, and descended 
from a branch of the ancient and respect- 
able family of Starkies of Huntroyd, co. 
Lancaster. Mr. Starkey married 5 Oct. 
1830, Charlotte, dau. of William Stan- 
ton, Esq. of Throp House, Stroud, and 
has left two sons and four daughters, 
herself Stephenson, John, Esq. at Newark, Notts, 

aged 81 , 3rd June. 

of Stokes, George, Esq. formerly of Col- 
chester, at Tyndale House, Cheltenham, 
31st May. 

Stuart Frances, second daughter of the 
Hon. and Rev. Andrew Godfrey Stuart, 
4th June. 

Stuart, Lady Dudley, second daughter of 
Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, at 
Rome, 19th May. 



Titley, Eliza, wife of the Rev. Peter Tit ley, 
at Penloyn, Llanrwst, North Wales, 16th 

Todd, Maria Caroline, wife of Joseph 
Todd, Esq. of Moulsey Park, Surrey, 
14th June. 

Tulloch, Lieut. Donald, Madras Army, son 
of Col. Tulloch, C.B., Commissary- Ge- 
neral, Madras, at sea, 24th July. 

Turner, Mary Anne, wife of Edward E 
Turner, Esq. of Cannock, co. Stafford, 
7th June. 

Watson, Lieut.-Col. Sir Frederick, K.T.S. 
This gallant officer died on the 21st May, 
in Portland-place, after a protracted ill- 
ness, brought on by his services in the 
Peninsular War. Sir F. Watson was 
present at most of the battles in the Pe- 
ninsular, viz. Busaco, Albuera, Badajos 
Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Campo 
Major, Olivenca, Alba de Tormes. Pre- 
vious to entering the Portuguese service 
he was Captain in the First or Roya 
Dragoons. He was son of the late Lieut.- 
Col. Christopher Watson, formerly of the 
Third, or King's Own Dragoons, o: 
Westwood House, near Colchester. Hii 
remains were interred, at Kensall Green 

Watts, the| & ev ' William, A.M. incumben 
of Christ Church, St. Giles-in-the- Fields 
llth June. 

Wells, Angela Helen, youngest child o 
Nathaniel Wells, Esq. of Piercefield, co 
Monmouth, aged 16, lith June. 

Welsted, Sophia, widow of the late Charles 
Welsted, Esq. of Valentines, Essex, 28th 

White, Thomas, Esq. of Mims Hall, South 
Mims, Middlesex, aged 46, 12th June. 

Willoughby, Robert, Esq. late of Kingsbury 
Cliff, co. Warwick, aged 83, 25th May. 

Wilmot, Sir John Eardley Eardley, Bart, 
of Berkswell Hall, co. Warwick. The 

death of this gentleman, subduing all pri- 
vate and party animosity, has called forth 
an universal expression of regret. The 
melancholy event occurred at Hobart 
Town, on the 3rd February. Sir Eardley, 
only son of John Wilmot, Esq. of Berks- 
well Hall, a Master in Chancery, and 
grandson of Sir John Eardley Wilmot, 
Knt. a celebrated lawyer, at one time 
Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, 
represented a branch of the ancient Der- 
byshire family of Wilmot, of Chaddesden, 
and derived, in the female line, from the 
Eardleys, of Eardley, in Staffordshire. 
He was born 21st February, 1783, and 
married twice. By his first wife, Eliza- 
beth Emma, daughter of C. H. Parry, 
M.D. of Bath, he leaves a large family, of 
which the eldest son is the present Sir 
John Eardley Wilmot, Bart. By his 
second wife, Elizabeth, eldest daughter of 
Sir Robert Chester, of Bush Hall, Herts, 
Sir Eardley also had issue. From 1 832 
to 1843, he sat in Parliament for Warwick- 
shire, but retired in the latter year, on 
being appointed Governor of Van 
Diemen's Land. The duties of that office 
he performed until 1846, when he was 
superseded by Charles Joseph Latrobe, 
Esq. Previously to his departure from 
England, the late Baronet had acted as a 
Deputy-Lieutenant for Warwickshire, and 
was for several years the able and re- 
spected Chairman of the Quarter Sessions. 
The recent debate in the House of Com- 
mons explains fully the particulars of 
Sir Eardley Wilmot's recal from his 

Wilson, John James, Esq. Surgeon, of 
Dough ty-street, 15th June. 

Wortham, Cecil Proctor, Esq. at Madras, 
29th March. 

Yates, Francis, Esq. at r Allrighton, Salop, 
aged 81, 26th May. 




Les homines apprennent a se moderer en voyant mourir les rois. 


COMMON fame has not only done much injustice to the memory of Richard 
III, but it has thrown a kind of delusive halo around the reputation of his 
successor, HENRY VII . As a monarch the latter was decidedly the greater 
tyrant of the two. Shakespeare has made the world believe that Henry was 
a hero, but in reality this king was a cold, calculating and cruel despot. His 
avaricejmew no bounds ; and, to gratify that base passion, he was perpetu- 
ally oppressing his subjects with illegal taxes, fines, and other arbitrary ex- 
actions. So barefaced and brutal was his system of plunder, that his son 
and successor was, on his accession, obliged to satisfy the clamour of the 
people by putting to death Empson and Dudley, the agents of his father's 
extortions. Henry VII's treatment of his relative, the unfortunate Earl of 
Warwick, whom, after a long and unjustifiable incarceration, he caused to 
be judicially murdered, equals any charge brought against his predecessor, 
even if it were proved. To his wife and children, Henry was harsh in the 
extreme, and seems, in common with most misers, to have lost all 
domestic feeling, except, indeed, in the advancement of his own fortune and 
power by procuring great matrimonial alliances for his sons and daughters. 
His anxiety for a connection with the crown of Spain, led to his compelling 
his two sons in succession to wed Katherine of Arragon, which was the 
fertile cause of such subsequent misery. The death of Henry VII was 
characteristic of his life. It occurred just as he was meditating a second 
'marriage. His neglected queen had some time previously died in childbed, 
and he was hesitating, for a new consort, between the Queen- do wager of 
Naples, and the Duchess- dowager of Savoy, both ladies of enormous 
wealth. But the decline of his health put an end to all such thoughts ; and 
he began to cast his eye towards that future existence, which the iniquities 
and severities of his reign rendered a very dismal prospect to him. To 
allay the terrors under which he laboured, he endeavoured, by distributing 
alms, and founding religious houses, to make atonement for his crimes, and 
to purchase, by the sacrifice of part of his ill-gotten treasures, a reconcilia- 
tion with his offended Maker. Remorse even seized him, at intervals, for 
the abuse of his authority by Empson and Dudley; but not sufficient 
to make him stop the rapacious hand of those oppressors. Sir William 



Capel was again fined 2000 under some frivolous pretence, and was com- 
mitted to the Tower for daring to murmur against the iniquity. Harris, an 
Alderman of London, was indicted, and died of vexation before his trial 
came to an issue. Sir Laurence Ailmer, who had been Mayor, and his two 
sheriffs, were condemned in heavy fines, and sent to prison till they made 
payment. The King* gave countenance to all these oppressions ; till death, 
by its nearer approaches, impressed new terrors upon him ; in his final and 
fearful agony he ordered, by a general' clause in his will, that restitution 
should be made to all those whom he had injured. He died of a con- 
sumption, April 22, 1509, at his favourite palace of Richmond, after 
a reign of twenty-three years and eight months, in the fifty-second year of 
his age. 

One reason perhaps for the leniency of posterity with regard to the me- 
mory of Henry VII, is that his misdeeds sank into insignificance and oblivion, 
before the surpassing horrors of the succeeding reign. Yet it has often 
struck us as singular, that all the English historians,* of whatever creed 
or party, can look as calmly as they do on the character and conduct 
of HENRY VIII, a prince whose career presents one of the darkest 
eras of atrocity in the annals of the world. Vain would it be to seek 
in the catalogue of Christian monarchs for another monster like this : even 
among the regal and imperial enormities of Pagan antiquity, his equal can 
scarcely be found. He had the extreme cruelty of Tiberius, without his 
political sagacity. He was a domestic murderer like Nero, whom he 
exceeded in treachery and lust ; but he was sane, and the Roman was 
a lunatic. Herod Agrippa is perhaps Henry's nearest prototype, yet even 
Herod evinced some feeling for others beyond the satisfaction of his 
own inordinate selfishness : Henry never did. Herod bitterly mourned 
Mariamne slain in his wrath. The base Judean did at least admit that he had 

thrown a pearl away 

Richer than all his tribe. 

There is no instance recorded of Henry's showing a moment's grief or 
regret for the death of wife, relative, friend, or any other human being, 
however unjustly or cruelly sacrificed. The most extraordinary part of his 
dark history, is that Christian England, previously so sensitive to crimes 
even suspected to be committed by its sovereigns, and at all times naturally 
averse to cruelty, should for thirty- seven years patiently suffer its territory 
to become the arena of a series of atrocities which would have even made 
Pagan Rome rise against the miscreant who was the perpetrator of them. 
Unhappily moreover, we find the name of Henry connected with religion, 
and it is probably not a little on this account, that history deals so tenderly 
with his infamy ; for Henry, according to the passion of the moment, 
favoured one or other of the fierce polemical factions that were then dis- 
tracting Europe, and each in its turn gave out something' in his praise. 
Thus it is curious to observe the Protestant writers speaking of Henry's 
munificence and sagacity during the ascendency of the monastery- destroy ing 
Cromwell; while even Dr. Lingard, the Catholic annalist, says Henry 
was quite a virtuous person as long as Wolsey was in power. It is an 
insult to religion to base its sacred cause for an instant, be the sect what it 
may, upon any thing done by this king, alike the enemy of God and man. 
But we must now pass over his dreadful life to his no less awful demise. 

* The intelligent Mr. Keightley, a stanch Protestant, is perhaps the only exception. 
In his History of England, Henry is rightly dealt with. 


The termination of Henry VIIFs existence had much in it, which re r 
sembled the deaths of Herod and Tiberius. As with the Jewish and 
the Roman tyrants, his body had become, from his excesses, one mass of 
foul disease and putrid corruption, and like Herod, Henry was committing 
murder as he lay on his death bed. Herod, it is well known, beside 
having his son executed five days before he expired, ordered that the 
principal men of the Hebrew nation should be enclosed in the Hippodrome, 
and that, while he was giving up the ghost, they should be slaughtered, 
to ensure a general lamentation among his people when he was dead. How 
nearly similar was the conduct of Henry. Nine days before he breathed 
his last, he caused the barbarous execution of his relative the gallant, 
gentle Earl of Surrey, who ranks among the last ornaments of England's chi- 
valry, and the first of her poets. The charge against Surrey was that he had 
quartered on his shield (as he had a perfect right to do) the arms of Edward 
the Confessor. On the same accusation, Surrey's father, the Duke of 
Norfolk, the first man in the realm, was speedily attainted by an obsequious 
parliament, and the tyrant, while at the verge of his mortal agony, on the 
morning of his last day, issued orders that the aged Duke should be 
beheaded. Providence, however, interfered to prevent both the ancient, 
and the more modern accumulation of atrocity. The prisoners of the 
Hippodrome, and the inmate of the Tower, were alike rescued by the deaths 
of their respective oppressors. The actual demise of Henry, occurred 
thus. The king had lain for some time in mortal sickness, apparently 
unconscious and regardless of his immediate danger, but for several days 
all those near him plainly saw his end approaching. He was become so 
froward and fierce, that no one durst inform him of his condition ; and 
as some persons during this reign had suffered as traitors for foretelling the 
king's death, every one was afraid, lest in the transports of his fury he might, 
on this pretence, punish capitally the author of such friendly intelligence. 
At last Sir Anthony Denny ventured to disclose to him the fatal secret, 
exhorted him to prepare for the fate which was awaiting him, and 
advised him to send for Archbishop Cranmer. He heard the announce- 
ment unmoved, and said, "let me sleep awhile." On' awaking, he 
dispatched a messenger for Cranmer, but before the prelate arrived he was 
speechless, though he still seemed to retain his senses. 

Cranmer implored him to give some sign of his dying in the faith of 
Christ : it is said that he squeezed the Archbishop's hand, but even this 
is a matter of doubt : he expired just as the exhortation fell from 
Cranmer's lips. And this was the end of a king, who had indeed never 
spared man in his anger, nor woman in his lust. He died in the fifty-sixth 
year of his age and the thirty- eighth of his reign : his life had been to 
himself one undeviating course of good fortune, which may be accounted 
for by the fearful consideration that crimes such as his are too heavy to 
meet with any earthly retribution. By his will, Henry VIII left money for 
masses to be said for delivering his soul from purgatory. 

EDWARD VI, whose youth, and whose mental incapacity consequent upon 
continual sickness can be the only excuses for the executions of his two uncles, 
and the unjust endeavour to deprive his sisters of the Crown, lived, and died 
wretchedly. After a complete series of maladies, which ended in consump- 
tion, Edward's demise was in this manner. When the settlement, setting 
the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth aside was made, with so many inauspi- 
cious circumstances, Edward visibly declined every day ; and small hopes 
were entertained of his recovery. To make matters worse, his physicians 
were dismissed by Northumberland's advice, and an order of council ; 

H 2 


he was put into the hands of an ignorant woman, who undertook .in a little 
time to restore him to his former state of health. After the use of her 
medicines, all the bad symptoms increased to the most violent degree : 
he felt a difficulty of speech and breathing ; his pulse failed, his legs 
swelled, his colour became livid; and many other symptoms appeared 
of his approaching end. He expired at Greenwich, July 6, 1553, in 
the sixteenth year of his age, and the seventh of his reign. 

We have already alluded to MARY I as the most calumniated monarch in 
English history, and we could easily show that such is the fact ; but the 
discussion would be here too long and out of place. Suffice it to say that 
the two great offences charged against her, the death of Lady Jane Grey, 
and the persecution for heresy may be thus explained. So far from 
hurrying the fate of Lady Jane Grey, who,- be it remembered, was 
attainted according to strict course of law, Mary actually personally inter- 
fered with her Ministers to save her life, and after pardoning her father, 
the Duke of Suffolk, merely retained her under her sentence in the Tower. 
But Suffolk, regardless of the Queen's clemency, instantly raised another 
rebellion against her, and then it became a matter of salvation with Mary's 
government to allow the law to take its course against the unfortunate 
Jane. Mary was reluctant to the last, but she lived at a period when life 
was very easily sacrificed, and she was overpersuaded. As to the persecu- 
tion, even without regard to the gross exaggeration of the real facts, it was 
owing not to the Queen, but to the bloody nature of the religious contest 
then going on. Toleration was unknown at the time to Catholic or Protes- 
tant : both sides preached and practised the burning of their opponents, 
and hundreds upon hundreds became the miserable victims of a polemic 
fury which profaned Christianity and religion. These dreadful burnings 
commenced more than a century and a half before Queen Mary's reign. 
The law which sanctioned them was an act of Henry IV, and his son the 
great Henry V, whose memory is held so dear, put it often in force. 
Numbers perished by fire under Henry VIII and Edward VI, and other 
succeeding kings. Burning, as a punishment, was not actually abolished 
until the reign of George III. A woman named Catherine Hayes was 
burnt alive in 1726, for the murder of her husband, the crime being deemed 
petty treason. The real truth why the horrid custom is more noticed 
during Mary's rule is, that she, like Richard III, was succeeded by 
enemies, whose object was to amplify and extend every accusation against 
her. The persecution was the cruel madness of the age, and should 
no more be ascribed to Mary, than the executions of witches, which hap- 
pened in his reign, to Charles II. But our subject lies with the death and 
not the life of Mary. Her reign was as short as it was sad. 

Her health had always been delicate ; from the time of her first supposed 
pregnancy she was afflicted with frequent and obstinate maladies. Tears no 
longer afforded her relief from the depression of her spirits ; and the re- 
peated loss of blood, by the advise of her physicians, had rendered her pale, 
languid, and emaciated. Nor was her mind more at ease than her body. 
The exiles from Geneva, by the number and virulence of their libels, threat- 
ening her life, kept her in a constant state of fear and irritation ; and to 
other causes of anxiety, had been added the insalubrity of the season and 
the loss of Calais. In August she experienced a slight febrile indisposition 
at Hampton Court, and immediately removed to St. James's. It was 
soon ascertained that her disease was the same fever which had proved fatal 
to thousands of her subjects ; and, though she languished for three months, 


with several alterations of improvement and relapse, she never recovered 
sufficient to leave her chamber. During this long confinement, Mary 
edified all around her by her piety, and her resignation to the will of 
Providence. On the morning of her death, Mass was celebrated in her 
chamber. She was perfectly sensible, and expired a few minutes before 
the conclusion, on the 17th November, 1558. Her friend and kins- 
man, Cardinal Pole, who had long been confined with a fever, survived 
her only twenty-two hours. He had reached his fifty-ninth, she her forty- 
second year. 

One proof of the fierceness of the feeling raised against Mary, is that 
no credit is given to her for an exclamation with regard to the loss of 
Calais, which she made on her death bed, and which evinced how acutely 
she felt aught that diminished the greatness of England. ' ' The name 
of Calais" she said "will be found engraven on my heart, when I am 
dead." Mary is the only sovereign of the house of Tudor, who committed 
no act of private atrocity, and yet, in history, even her father's reputation 
compared to hers, is fair and good to see. 

The great Queen ELIZABETH, lost, at the hour of death, that courage 
and fortitude which so characterised her life : yet, unlike her father, 
she did give proof that she possessed a conscience. Passion or policy had 
led her to perpetrate many cruelties. The murder of poor Mary Stuart is 
the worst crime recorded, on clear testimony, against the crown of England ; 
and one cannot but view as a natural consequence the dying terrors of the 
guilty party, even though a person as sagacious, and as strong minded 
as Elizabeth really was. The fairest, and most graphic account of this 
mighty sovereign's demise, is that given by Lingard, who, however, rejects 
as apocryphal the well known story of the ring, said to have been sent by 
the Earl of Essex through the Countess of Nottingham, to Elizabeth, but 
not delivered by the Countess, who revealed her treachery on her death bed. 
According to Dr. Lingard, the termination of the Queen's life is thus reported. 

Elizabeth had surprised the nations of Europe by the splendour of 
her course : she. was destined to close the evening of her life in gloom and 
sorrow. The bodily infirmities which she suffered may have been the con- 
quences of age ; her mental afflictions are usually traced by historians to 
i egret for the execution of Essex. That she occasionally bewailed his fate, 
that she accused herself of precipitation and cruelty, is not improbable : but 
there were disclosures in his confession, to which her subsequent melancholy 
may with great probability be ascribed. From that document she learned 
the unwelcome and distressing truth, that she had lived too long ; that her 
favourites looked with impatience to the moments which would free them 
from her control ; and that the very men on whose loyalty she had hitherto 
reposed with confidence, had already proved unfaithful to her. She became 
pensive and taciturn ; she sate whole days by herself, indulging in the most 
gloomy reflections ; every rumour agitated her with new and imaginary 
terrors ; and the solitude of her court, the opposition of the commons 
to her prerogative, and the silence of the citizens when she appeared in 
public, were taken by her for proofs that she had survived her popularity, 
and was become an object of aversion to her subjects. Under these 
impressions, she assured the French ambassador that she had grown weary 
of her very existence. 

Sir John Harrington, her godson, who visited the court about seven 
months after the death of Essex, has described, in a private letter, the state 


in which he found the Queen. She was altered in her features, and reduced 
to a skeleton. Her food was nothing but manchet bread and succory 
pottage. Her taste for dress was gone. She had not changed her clothes 
for many days. Nothing could please her ; she was the torment of the 
ladies who waited on her person. She stamped with her feet, and swore 
violently at the objects of her anger. For her protection she had ordered 
a sword to be placed by her table, which she often took in her hand, and 
thrust with violence into the tapestry of her chamber. About a year later Sir 
John returned to the palace, and was admitted to her presence. " I found 
her," he says, " in a most pitiable state. She bade the Archbishop ask me, 
if I had seen Tyrone. I replied, with reverence, that I had seen him with 
the Lord Deputy. She looked up with much choler and grief in her 
countenance, and said, ' O, now it mindeth me, that you was one who saw 
this man elsewhere;' and hereat she dropped a tear, and smote her bosom. 
She held in her hand a golden cup, which she often put to her lips : but, 
in truth, her heart seemed too full to need more filling." 

In January she was troubled with a cold, and about the end of the 
month removed, on a wet and stormy day, from Westminster to Richmond. 
Her indisposition increased : but, with her characteristic obstinacy, she 
refused the advice of her physicians. Loss of appetite was accompanied 
with lowness of spirits, and to add to her distress, it chanced that her 
intimate friend, the Countess of Nottingham, died. Elizabeth now spent 
her days and nights in sighs and tears ; or, if she condescended to speak, 
she always chose some unpleasant and irritating subject ; the treason and 
execution of Essex, or the reported project of marrying the Lady Arabella 
into the family of Lord Hertford, or the war in Ireland and the pardon of 
Tyrone. In the first week of March all the symptoms of her disorder 
were considerably aggravated : she lay during some hours in a state of 
stupour, rallied for a day or two, and then relapsed. The council, having 
learned from the physicians that her recovery was hopeless, prepared to 
fulfil their engagements with the King of Scots, by providing for his peace- 
able succession to the throne. The Lord Admiral, the Lord Keeper, and 
the Secretary, remained with the Queen at Richmond : the others repaired 
to Whitehall. Orders were issued for the immediate arrest and transpor- 
tation to Holland of all vagrants and unknown persons found in London or 
Westminster ; a guard was posted at the exchequer ; the great horses were 
brought up from Reading ; the court was supplied with arms and ammuni- 
tion ; and several gentlemen, " hunger- starved for innovation," and there- 
fore objects of suspicion, were conveyed prisoners to the Tower. 

The Queen, during the paroxysms of her disorder, had been alarmed at 
the frightful phantoms conjured up by her imagination. At length she 
obstinately refused to return to her bed ; and sate both day and night on a 
stool bolstered up with cushions, having her finger in her mouth and her 
eyes fixed on the floor, seldom condescending to speak, and rejecting every 
offer of nourishment. The bishops and the lords of the council advised and 
entreated in vain. For them all, with the exception of the Lord Admiral, 
she expressed the most profound contempt. He was of her own blood : 
from him she consented to accept a basin of broth : but when he urged her 
to return to her bed, she replied that, if he had seen what she saw there, 
he would never make the request. To Cecil, who asked her if she had 
seen spirits, she answered, that it was an idle question beneath her notice. 
He insisted that she must go to bed, if it were only to satisfy her people. 
"Must?" she exclaimed, "is must a word to be addressed to Princes? 


Little man, little man, thy father, if he had been alive, durst not have used 
that word : but thou art grown presumptuous because thou knowest that I 
shall die." Ordering the others to depart, she called the Lord Admiral to 
her, saying in a piteous tone, " my Lord, I am tied with an iron collar about 
my neck." He sought to console her, but she replied, " no : I am tied, 
and the case is altered with me." 

At the commencement of her illness the Queen had been heard to say 
that she would leave the Crown to the right heir: it was now deemed 
advisable to elicit from her a less equivocal declaration on behalf of the 
King of Scots. On the last night of her life the three lords waited 
upon her ; and, if we may believe the report circulated by their partisans, 
received a favourable answer. But the maid of honour who was present 
has left us a very different tale. According to her narrative the persons 
first mentioned to the Queen by the Lords were the King of France and the 
King of Scotland. The Queen neither spoke nor stirred. The third name 
was that of the Lord Beau champ. At the sound her spirit was roused ; 
and she hastily replied, " I will have no rascal's son in my seat," They 
were the last words which she uttered. She relapsed into a state of insen- 
sibility, and at three the next morning tranquilly breathed her last. This 
occurred on the 24th March, 1603, in the seventieth year of her age and, 
the forty- sixth of her reign. By six o'clock the same day, the lords from 
Richmond joined those in London ; and a resolution was taken to proclaim 
James as heir to the Queen, both by proximity of blood and by her own 
appointment on her death-bed. 

Providence points out an awe-inspiring lesson in the deaths of the three 
principal Sovereigns of the house of Tudor Henry VII, Henry VIII, and 
Elizabeth. Unvarying prosperity had attended them while living : the 
avarice of the one, the luxury of the other, and the ambition of the third, 
had been gratified even to their utmost hope : their cups of vicious desires 
had overflowed the brim, and yet, when dying how utterly miserable they 
were ! What objects of wretchedness and horror did they become when 
the hand of God fell upon them ! The peasant, nay the meanest of man- 
kind the very beggar whose soul might perhaps have to wing its flight 
from a dunghill would have shrunk in terror from .regal felicity such as 
theirs, coupled with such conclusions. The words of the sacred orator we 
have quoted above are, if ever, to have signification here. Men should in- 
deed learn moderation when they know how these Tudor monarchs died. 




SPAIN, how art thou fallen ! Thou who but a few hundred years ago stoodst 
in the very front of Europe, the conqueror and civilised ruler of vast na- 
tions that had oceans between them ; thou, the arbiter of all chivalry, rank, 
gentility, courtesy, and refinement ; a potentate, too, in literature, without 
which no nation can be great, the works of thy Calderon, and De Vega, 
and Cervantes, the delight and talk of the universe. Thus, indeed, thou 
was t ; and what art thou now ? 

O what a noble state is here overthrown ! 

The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword : 

Th' expectancy and rose of the fair world, 

The glass of fashion, and the mould of form, 

Th' observ'd of all observers ! quite, quite down ! 

A horrid civil warfare, which, since the period of the contest for the 
succession in the beginning of the last century, down to the present time, 
has continued to rage with scarcely an interval of peace, proves even more 
detrimental to the literary than to the political greatness of Spain. Writing, 
beyond the bombastic and virulent articles in the newspapers, and some 
trashy publications, such as tales and novels, contemptible in style and sub- 
ject, appears now obsolete in this devoted country. Yet this is nowise owing 
to the mental incapability of the people of Spain; The natural character- 
istics of dignified thought, brilliant and varied imagination, and ready 
humour, remain as strong as ever. But it is the war, and, we maintain, the 
war alone, which effects this intellectual desolation. In strong proof of 
such being the case, the romances to which we are now going to allude, 
and which are the only two that do credit to recent letters in Spain, were 
brought out at times when peace shed momentary and flickering rays of its 
benign influence over the land of Castile. The first of these in priority of 
publication is " El Conde Candespina, Novela historica original," which 
issued from the press of Madrid in 1832. Its author is Don Patricio de la 
Escosura, then an alferez or ensign of artillery in the royal guard. This 
romance, though, as may easily be supposed, inferior to similar contemporary 
productions in this country, or in France or Germany, is a tale of no incon- 
siderable merit. The language is good, the characters are very well drawn, 
many of the scenes are lively, and the whole has an agreeable tone of nation- 
ality. The story dates at the beginning of the twelfth century : it is founded 
upon the fierce dissensions of Urraca, Queen of Castile and Leon, and her 
second husband, Alfonso, King of Arragon. The hero of the narrative, 
Don Gomez, Conde de Candespina, had loved Urraca prior to this unfor- 
tunate second marriage, and had been recommended, although unsuccessfully 
by the assembled nobility of the kingdom, as a consort for the heiress Urraca, 
more agreeable to her future subjects than a foreigner. During her misera- 
ble wedlock with the King of Arrugon, Don Gomez is her faithful and zeal- 
ous cavalier, repeatedly delivering her from Don Alfonso's tyranny ; he, 
however, conceals his undying passion until after her divorce on the 


ground of consanguinity, when he contends for her love with Don" Pedro, 
Conde de Lara, who had not waited for the sentence that made his suit 
lawful, to seek the Queen's hand by flattering her vanity. Of the levity and 
self-complacency of her Majesty, the following scene is an amusing and 
happy illustration. Candespina has, with a very few assistants, surprised 
the Arragonese castle in which Donna Urraca with a favourite maid of honour, 
Leonora Guzman, was kept prisoner by her husband, who would arrogate all 
authority in her dominions. The Conde has released the Queen, and with 
equal skill and secresy escorts her safely to the actual frontiers of Castile. 
The party halts for the last time in an Arragonese village : 

" The house that appeared the least miserable was selected, and, without 
further ceremony, Don Gomez sent its master orders to receive the Queen, 
not even announcing her exalted dignity. The plebeians were then accus- 
tomed to submit voluntarily or perforce to the will of the nobles, who issued 
their orders at the point of the spear, and did not wonder at their exactions. 
Accordingly, the Arragonese peasant expressed no repugnance to affording 
the hospitality thus courteously solicited. He showed his guests into what 
was called a saloon, in which no furniture was seen beyond a coarse deal 
table, a few benches of the same material, and a large leather chair, that 
was evidently the oldest and most respectable occupant of the place. In 
this saloon was an alcove, containing a bed, perfectly in keeping with the 
rest of the furniture, and destined for Donna Urraca. 

" The Queen, upon entering this miserable hut, cast a glance around her, 
and a deep sigji told how much she missed the splendour of a court. The 
Conde understood her, but unable to remedy a single discomfort, he deemed 
it wise to say nothing upon such subjects. Engrossed by his plan respecting 
Don Hernando's mission, he scarcely waited till she had seated herself, when 
he bent his knee before her, and besought her permission to prefer a petition. 
Having obtained it, he set forth, clearly but concisely, the necessity that 
existed for soliciting the aid of the Senor de Najara, to escort her to Burgos, 
where Don Alfonso's partisans bore sway. The Queen listened to his dis- 
course with evident signs of impatience, and then said, " Never should I 
have believed that the Queen of Castile would be reduced to beg the aid 
of her vassals." " Your highness," returned Don Gomez, "has not under- 
stood, assuredly by my fault, what I meant to say. There is no question of 
your highness's begging any one's aid, but of your condescending to an- 
nounce your arrival in your own dominions to the Senor de Najara ; an 
honour which will pledge that cavalier to your defence." " And how, 
Conde, do I chance to need his help ? Have I not plenty of vassals in 
Castile as noble, as powerful, and as bold as he ?" " Nobles there are in 
Castile, Senora, many, and very powerful ; but I grieve to say, not all per- 
haps". ..." I understand you. You fear that they may adhere to the King 
of Arragon in preference to their natural Queen. Whilst they believed 
me his lawful wife, whilst 1 was absent, they may perhaps have submitted 
to Don Alfonso. But when I present myse'lf, trust me, Conde, there will 
not be a single one who will not follow my standard." " So it should be ; 
so I would have it, but dare not rely upon its being so. At least let your 
highness be assured that it were imprudent to present yourself before 
Burgos, without a stronger escort than that which now attends you." 
" How odd you are, Conde ! Do you think the force with which you under- 
took to snatch me from the power of my enemies inadequate to escort me 
in mv own dominions." 


" Donna Leonora, who was present at this conversation, perceived the just- 
ness of the Conde's views ; but saw, at the same time, that it was useless 
to contend against the Queen's vanity : and that, unless the affair could be 
presented to her under a totally different light, she would never consent to 
that which was indispensable to her own interest. A happy expedient suddenly 
occurred to her, and, at the risk of incurring a sharp reproof, she ventured 
to mix in the conversation, saying to the Queen " If your highness would 
permit me. . . . " " How, Leonora, do you too mistrust the loyalty of my 
vassals ?" " No, Senora," returned the dextrous court favourite ; " so far 
from it, I hold the Conde's fears to be wholly unfounded." "Donna 
Leonora !" exclaimed the Conde, provoked to see the lady in waiting thus 
spontaneously oppose his judicious plan ; "Donna Leonora, have you maturely 
considered. ..." " Let her speak," said the Queen, interrupting him. 
" Go on, Leonora; let us see if you can convince this good cabellero." 
" I cannot think it necessary," said Leonora, " even to refute the fears which 
the Conde de Candespina's unbounded zeal has led him to conceive. His 
lordship will pardon me if I think him wholly in error. I am much mis- 
taken if there be a single noble in Castile who is not ready to sacrifice him- 
self for the charms of Donna Urraca." "Not for my charms, since I 
boast none, but for my rights, assuredly." " Your highness speaks thus 
from modesty," pursued the lady ; " but at any rate, your highness cannot 
need the Senor de Najara's troops for your protection ; nevertheless I should 
not hesitate to send for them." 

The astonishment of the Queen and the Count, at this strange conclusion 
of Donna Leonora's speech, cannot well be described. The first looked at 
her angrily, the second with admiration ; but she, who had foreseen this, 
without giving them time to recollect themselves, went on as follows : 

" If your highness will deign to listen to me another minute, my meaning 
will appear. I repeat that the Senor de Najara's troops are unnecessary 
for your security ; but does your highness think it beseems your high dig- 
nity to enter Burgos in the same litter with your only female attendant, 
without domestics, without more guards than eight or nine, assuredly valiant 
soldiers, but whose arms are still blood-stained, whose garments are covered 
with dust." 

" In very truth, Leonora, you are in the right, and I will send to the Senor 
de Najara to come and escort us to our Castillian capital. Write the letter, 
Conde, and I will sign it ; but take care to express, that the motive of our 
summons is suggested by Leonora, and not the slightest distrust of the 
loyalty of our vassals." 

The following is a more bustling portion of the romance. The Queen has, 
by her own imprudence, again fallen into her husband's power ; and two of 
her most stanch adherents, Don Hernando de Olea and Don Diego de 
Najara, who have been seized with her, are confined in prison. Their escape 
is thus related : 

" The gaolers had been charged to visit the prison frequently, in order to 
prevent the captives from forcing the iron bars of their window, or organiz- 
ing any other mode of escape. The last of these disagreeable visits, peri- 
odically paid to our prisoners, took place after midnight. The gaolers then 
entered, each with his lantern, each armed with a sword and dagger; they 
first examined the chamber, then each cautiously approached the bed of one 
of the captives, to ascertain that he really occupied it. This was the hour 


which the two cabelleros selected for the execution of their hazardous enter- 


" It was about one o'clock in the morning, when a hoarse sound of keys 
and bolts announced the approach of the gaolers ; the heavy door creaked 
upon its hinges, and the pale scanty light of the lanterns illumined the 
chamber. The breathing of the two prisoners was equal and heavy, and 
the most acute observer could not have guessed that they were awake, and 
struggling between hope and fear. 

" They sleep," said the Castilian to the Aragonese gaoler. " Would it 
were for ever !" returned he. " Silence, lest they wake and hear." " What 
should they hear ? Don't you hear how Don Diego snores ?" " Perhaps," 
rejoined the first, without interrupting his examination of the apartment ; 
" perhaps your wishes may be quickly fulfilled." " Oh ! Oh ! so that". . . . 
" 'Tis said they will be treated as they deserve" meaning beheaded. 
"Precisely." "Dogs !" Hernando was about to exclaim, but fortunately 
restrained himself. " The sooner the better/^ subjoined the gaoler. And now, 
having completed their examination of the dungeon, they, according to custom, 
placed their lanterns on the ground, and each approached the bed of a pri- 
soner.* * * The two gaolers, satisfied that their prisoners were asleep, turned 
their backs to the beds, to resume their lanterns and depart. But at this 
instant both gentlemen sprang upon them, with unparalleled celerity, and 
strongly grasping their throats, brought them to the ground before they could 
speak a word, or recover from the alarm 'of so sudden and unexpected an 
assault. " Utter an Oh ! and thou art dead, wretch," said Hernando to the 
Aragonese gaoler, placing his knee upon his breast, and threatening him with 
his own dagger, which, as well as his cutlass, he had just snatched from him j 
whilst Don Diego held his opponent under equal subjection, telling him in a 
calm voice, that he must not stir if he wished to live. " All resistance is use- 
less, slaves," said Don Diego. " Ye are already disarmed, and under any cir- 
cumstances we are more than a match for you."* * * * " Keep you that one 
under control," he added; "and as for you, friend, get up and undress 
yourself with all dispatch, if you would not try the temper of your own 

"The confounded and trembling gaoler obeyed, and when he had finished, 
Don Diego again threw him upon the ground, where he tied his hands and 
feet with the sheets of his bed, and stopped his mouth with a cloth, so that 
he could not move nor call for help. 

"When both gaolers were thus stripped and secured, Don Hernando and 
Don Diego disguised themselves in their apparel, not forgetting their arms, 
and still less the bunch of keys borne by one of them. Then, each taking 
up a ready prepared and concealed bundle, they issued from their dungeon, 
fervently recommending themselves to the protection of God, and closing 
the doors with all the precautions usually employed to insure their own safe 
custody by the gaolers, whose parts they were now to play. 

"Neither Hernando nor Diego had seen anymore of the prison they in- 
habited than their own apartment, except upon the day they were brought 
thither. But the impression then made upon them was sufficient to enable 
them, aided by the lights they bore, and walking very cautious, to reach the 
guard- room, in which lay the soldiers wrapt in untroubled sleep. They 


crossed it, unchallenged by the sentry, who, from their dress, believed them 
to be the gaolers, and issued forth into the street." 

The continuation, too long to extract, tells how they were enabled to quit 
the town and reach the camp of Conde de Candespina. These samples 
show the tenour and the style of this work by the Alferez Escosura. We 
now pass to one of greater note. 

The romance we mean is " Donna Isabel de Solis, Queen of Granada," 
Novela Historica, by Don Francisco Martinez de la Rosa. But before we 
speak of the book, we would say a word or two of the author. There is, 
perhaps, no more sad instance of the cruel effect of intestine strife upon 
literature than the career of Martinez de la Rosa. Had his native land been 
any other civilised country of Europe than Spain, this gifted writer would have 
flourished in the full enjoyment of popularity, encouragement, and honour : 
in Spain, his reward has been, first a captivity for years in an African dun- 
geon, then exile, and eventually a necessity of exclusive devotion to politics 
to obtain that rank and station which belonged of right to his genius and 
birth. His earlier life has been one continued struggle to revive among his 
countrymen a taste for learning and letters. He has appeared as an essayist, 
a critic, an historian, a poet, a dramatist, in fine, as a writer in every style 
and upon every subject. All his productions have much attraction, and 
display ability of a superior order. In proof of his literary qualities, is the 
fact of his being appreciated by a people capable of paying tribute to merit. 
When driven from his country, Martinez de la Rosa wrote plays in France, 
in the French language, which were successfully performed at Paris. On 
his return to Spain, he became a distinguished partisan of that side mis- 
named Liberal, in a country where liberality has no existence. Amid his 
political greatness, however, he once more briefly resumed his pen, and in 
1838 a period when there seemed some chance of peace, he brought out 
at Madrid the romance we are now going to describe. 

The subject of " Donna Isabel de Solis" is taken from the later years of 
the struggle between the Spaniards and the Moors for the territory of Gra- 
nada. The heroine of the tale, Donna Isabel, is the daughter of Don Sancho 
le Solis, governor of Martos, a fortress belonging to the knights of Calatrava, 
nd situate on the very verge of the Moorish dominions. The strange and 
omantic adventures of Isabel occupy the narrative. At the actual moment 
.)f her marriage with a noble suitor, Pedro de Venegas, the wedding cere- 
mony is surprised, and put an end to, by an irruption of the Moors. Isabel's 
father and lover are slain, and she herself is carried into captivity. Here, 
after a series of romantic incidents, she is induced, by her passion for the 
Moorish king, Abu-1- Hassan, to forget her friends and country ; she be- 
comes the unhappy bride of the Mussulman monarch, and ascends the throne 
of Granada. The marriage eventually causes the fall of the Moorish power 
in Spain. This romance, as a mere story, is not one of very great interest : 
much of it is trivial and commonplace, and it frequently wants animation. 
The historical portion, though fine of itself, is too prolix to be connected 
with what is intended to be a stirring and adventurous tale. Still the work 
exhibits much striking talent. Many of the descriptions are extremely 
beautiful, especially'a lively and truly poetical picture which the author gives 
of the city of Granada. The style and language of the romance through- 
out are excellent ; the writing is pure without being antiquated, eloquent and 
vigorous without affectation, and will afford no small gratification to those 
who can appreciate the stately and sonorous dialect of Spain. As a spcci- 


men of the work, we give the following account of the fatal interruption to 
the nuptials of Isabel de Solis at Martos : 

"The night fixed for the espousals at length arrived, and a silent calm 
succeeded to the noise and bustle of the day, not unlike the tranquillity of 
the ocean after a storm . The followers of the different guests, and the 
menials of the castle, overcome with sleep and wine, lay dispersed about 
the courts and corridors. A few only of the principal household servants, 
and the ladies and knights who were to witness the ceremony, stood at the 
door of the chapel in anxious expectation of the signal. A low murmur 
announced at last the arrival of the bride and bridegroom with their friends, 
and immediately afterwards a dozen pages, with a torch of wax in one hand, 
and the cup in the other, were seen approaching the chapel with due solem- 
nity and composure. They were followed by Isabel and Don Pedro, who, 
deeply absorbed in their own thoughts, walked in silence, scarcely daring to 
raise their eyes from the ground. Not so the Commendador, who, with 
Don Alonso de Cordova and the Senor de Zuheros, walked with head erect 
and cheerful countenance ; the cortege being closed by Isabel's handmaidens, 
wrapt up in mantles, and by a few favoured esquires who had, by dint of 
entreaty, obtained this signal distinction. 

" The chapel of the castle was small and dark, and had'only one nave ; the 
ceiling was of carved walnut,, the altar adorned with wooden images, placed 
in gilt niches. But the antiquity of the retreat, and its rude ornaments, 
raised the soul above worldly contemplation, and inspired sweet and melan- 
choly reveries. The idea that there, under the marble flags with which the 
chapel was paved, many of the ancestors of the Commendador slept in 
peace, their ashes mingled with the earth redeemed by them from the 
Moors, and their bodies lying under the altars which they had in life defended, 
contributed not a little to impress the mind with religious feelings. In the 
centre of the chapel, a foot above ground, rose a sepulchre, on which was 
coarsely carved the figure of a young woman, with the hands crossed over 
the breast, the feet joined, and the face looking up to heaven. It was that 
of the mother of Isabel ; and the Commendador felt a degree of consola- 
tion mixed with sorrow, in the thought that his sainted wife might witness 
and bless their daughter's union from her tomb. The bride was already at 
the foot of the altar, pale and tremulous ; the bridegroom by her side 
breathless and agitated ; the minister of heaven was pronouncing the sacred 
words, and on the point of receiving the fatal yes which was to unite them 
until death, when suddenly an appalling shriek struck every one with horror. 
The Commendador and his friends first thought it might be a scuifle among 
the people of the castle ; but immediately after, the cry of " Fire !" and the 
approach of a confused multitude, the clatter of arms, the precipitate step 
of fugitives, .the groans of the wounded and dying, too plainly tcld the fatal 

" Isabel fainted away in the arms of her husband ; her friends and retainers 
fled panic- struck ; the Commendador rushed out like lightning to inquire 
into the cause of the alarm, but was himself met at the door of the chapel 
by the crowd of fugitives, who thronged to it for refuge. In vain did he 
demand to be heard ; in vain he repeated question after question : no answer 
could be obtained, his voice was drowned in cries and lamentations, as though 
death were at hand. Alas ! it was but too near. 

" The Moors on the frontiers, encouraged by a long peace, and secure of 
making an easy prey of people plunged in heedless revelry, had, during the 
night, scaled the walls of the castle, and, profiting by the negligence of the 


drunken soldiers, they inundated its hall and courts, and began the work of 
destruction with fire and sword. Many were the Christians who, on that 
fatal night, passed from the arms of sleep into those of death ; others fled 
to the chapel in hopes of finding an asylum, invoking the name of God, 
which died in terror on their lips. But alas ! at sight of that holy retreat, 
the fury of the infidels increased instead of abating, and they rushed among 
the Christians like so many wolves into a sheep-fold. The Commendador, 
immoveable as a statue, sword in hand awaited their attack ; and though 
pierced with a hundred wounds, stood for some time fixed as rock, and then 
staggered and fell, trailing himself towards the tomb of his wife, where he 
breathed his last. Before the altar, the youthful Venegas was seen sustain- 
ing Isabel, and protecting her with his own body from the blows of the 
assailants. Scarcely was the young cavalier sensible of what passed round 
him ; he had neither arms for defence, nor hope of succour from human 
power ; regardless of his own life, his heart was agonised for the fate of his 
beloved ! " Surrender or die !" exclaimed the chief of the invading party, 
rushing forward to separate them. Venegas at that instant received a wound 
in the forehead, embraced once, more his bride, and fell bathed in blgod at 
her feet. Such was the end of a day begun under such happy auspices ! 
Who will put faith hi earthly joy, which so quickly flies before us ?" 

Before quitting a melancholy contemplation of the present state of litera- 
ture in Spain we must not forget to mention another Spaniard who sought 
among ourselves that encouragement which the land of his birth could not, 
or would not, give. Don Telesforo de Trueba, a man of great intellectual 
acquirement, industry, and perseverance, produced, some twelve or fourteen 
years ago, in the English language, in this country, several romances which 
attained celebrity, and which are doubtless in the memory, or knowledge, of 
many of our readers. A play of his was also performed at Covent Garden 
Theatre. De Trueba subsequently went back to Spain, and, like Martinez 
de la Rosa, took a prominent part among the supporters of the Queen ; he 
died amid the political confusion which ensued. In this country he was 
much regarded and esteemed by a circle of friends, and the news of his 
death was received with sorrow. The fate of such men is grievous indeed, 
branding, as it does, their country's degradation on the very face of Spain. 
In conclusion we can only fervently say, God send deliverance and regenera- 
tion to the land of Calderon and Cervantes ! 




THE writer of romance has ever been accused of sacrificing not only 
the probable, but the possible, to the marvellous, of concocting fable 
that could have no foundation in fact, describing scenes that could not 
have occurred, and depicting character that could not have existed, 
of building, in a word, on the slippery sands of fiction alone, regardless 
alike of reason and reality. Is such, however, precisely his position ? 
The most incomprehensible of his stories have been paralleled in every- 
day life 3 and wonderful though his narrations, and wild and fanciful his 
dreamings, the judicial historian bears ample testimony that he is 
not altogether a visionary. The records of jurisprudence disclose 
circumstances which have absolutely occurred, as strange as the 
strangest to be found in the pages of romance as difficult to be 
accounted for, and as hard to be credited. Of these singular realities 
one most remarkable is the following trial : 

The Duke of Marlborough here referred to, was Charles Spencer, fifth 
Earl of Sunderland, grandson of the hero of Blenheim, and his successor 
as second Duke of Marlborough, which title he inherited the 24th Octo- 
ber, 1733, on the demise, unmarried, of his aunt, Henrietta, daughter of the 
first Duke and herself Duchess of Marlborough in her own right. This 
second Duke was himself a general of eminence, and fought with dis- 
tinction at Dettingen : he died of a fever, the 28th October, 1758, 
at Munsterin Westphalia: he was the great grandfather of the present 
Duke of Marlborough. 

The trial took place at the Old Bailey on the 10th and llth May, 
1758: the able Sir Michael Foster, was among the judges present. 
The narrative given on the side of the prosecution was this : 

After Mr. Moore had opened the indictment, Mr. Serjeant Davy 
spoke as follows : 

" May it please your lordships, and you gentlemen of the jury j 

I am counsel in this cause for the prosecution against the prisoner at 
the bar, who stands indicted on an act of Parliament made in the ninth 
year of his late majesty, very well known by the name of the Black 
Act. That act of parliament, reciting the several mischiefs, and consti- 
tuting several felonies, amongst other things, enacts, That if any person 
shall knowingly send any letter, without any name subscribed thereto, 
or signed with a fictitious name, demanding money, venison, or other 
valuable things ; every person so offending, being thereof lawfully con- 
victed, shall be adjudged guilty of felony, and shall suffer death as 
in cases of felony, without benefit of clergy. 

It is on that act that this indictment now comes before you, that you 
have heard read. You see it is for sending a letter j for it is on the first 


of these letters that the present indictment is founded j the others are 
sent in consequence of the first, and explanatory of his intentions. 

I will open to you, as concisely as I can, the several circumstances we 
have in evidence, in order to affect the prisoner at the bar : they are 
circumstances of that nature, corresponding so exactly with the pri- 
soner's case, affecting him so very minutely, that the several circum- 
stances do infer, I had almost said an impossibility of his innocence : 
you will find they all tally so exactly, they are so particularly relative to 
him, that it will be offering violence to every rule of reason, not to find 
him guilty. 

Gentlemen, on the 29th of November, a letter was found under 
the door of the Ordnance-office, directed to his Grace the Duke of 
Marlborough : upon opening this letter, which was wrote in imitation 
of print-hand, bearing date that day the 29th of November, it will 
be necessary, for the sake of the following circumstances, to desire your 
attention to the several parts. These are the words : 

" To his Grace the Duke of Marlborough. 

xxviiii November. 

" My lord ; as ceremony is an idle thing upon most occasions, more 
especially to persons in my state of mind, I shall proceed immediately 
to acquaint you with the motive and end of addressing this epistle 
to you, which is equally interesting to us both. You are to know then, 
that my present situation in life is such, that I should prefer annihilation 
to a continuance in it : desperate diseases require desperate remedies j 
and you are the man I have pitched upon, either to make me, or 
to unmake yourself. As I never had the honour to live among the 
great, the tenor of my proposals will not be very courtly ; but let that 
be an argument to enforce the belief of what I am now going to write. 
It has employed my invention, for some time, to find out a method 
to destroy another, without exposing my own life j that I have accom- 
plished, and defy the law. Now for the application of it. I am despe- 
rate, and must be provided for : you have it in your power, it is my 
business to make it your inclination, to serve me ; which you must deter- 
mine to comply with, by procuring me a genteel support for my life ; or 
your own will be at a period before this session of parliament is over. 
I have more motives than one for singling you out first, upon this occa- 
sion ; and I give you this fair warning, because the means I shall make 
use of are too fatal to be eluded by the power of physic. If you think 
this of any consequence, you will not fail to meet the author on Sunday 
next, at ten in the morning, or on Monday, (if the weather should 
be rainy on Sunday) near the first tree beyond the stile in Hyde Park, in 
the foot-walk to Kensington : secrecy and compliance may preserve you 
from a double danger of this sort : as there is a certain part of the 
world, where your death has more than been wished for, upon other 
motives. I know the world too well, to trust this secret in any breast 
but my own. A few days determine me your friend or enemy. 


" You will apprehend that I mean you should be alone ; and depend 
upon it, that a discovery of any artifice in this affair will be fatal to you : 
my safety is insured by my silence ; for confession only can con- 
demn me." 

This letter containing every thing that is dreadful, that might raise 
apprehensions of terror, subscribed by a name which is painful to almost 


every ear the name Felton ! That was the name of the assassin that 
stabbed the Duke of Buckingham at Portsmouth. 

My lord duke, not intimidated by the letter, though greatly surprised 
at it, and willing to find out the author, was not afraid to endeavour to 
apprehend him ; he went alone to the spot, and at the time appointed j 
however, there was some attendant on his Grace at a distance, in order 
to observe what passed on the occasion. My lord duke had been there 
some time on horseback, and as much undressed as a man of his quality 
is. He had pistols before him j he had been there some time, and saw 
nobody at all at that particular place. After waiting some considerable 
time, he was returning, and observed a person come to the particular 
spot just by the tree beyond the stile in Hyde Park, by the foot- walk to 
Kensington : that person held a handkerchief to his mouth in a seeming 
disconsolate manner, looking into the water, and stood still a very con- 
siderable while. Upon his Grace seeing this, that the man was not 
pursuing any way, the Duke had no doubt in his own mind, but that 
this man (be he who he would) must be the person who had sent him 
this letter. The man sauntering just at the place, the Duke rode up to 
the spot, expecting the person would speak to him : his Grace asked the 
man, Whether he wanted to speak to him ? He said, "No." " Sir," said 
the Duke, "do you know me ? I am the Duke of Marlborough j telling 
you that, perhaps you have something to say to me." "No, my lord." 
No notice being taken, the Duke came away. 

Gentlemen, you see, that this was an appointment on a Sunday 
to meet at a place where several people might be supposed to be 
walking. What was the view of that person may be seen by-and-bye. 
The author of this letter speaks of his being exceedingly guarded 
against the possibility of a detection ; he boasts of the care and caution 
he had used for that purpose, he defies the law, nothing but confession 
could condemn him, his safety was insured by his silence, he knew 
the world too well, to trust this secret in any breast but his own. 

A few days after, in the same week, the Duke received a second letter. 
This also was put under the door of the Office of Ordnance, and was 
also wrote in imitation of a print-hand : but the directions of both the 
letters are not ; there will be occasion to take notice of that circumstance 
by-and-bye. The second letter is in these words : 

" To his Grace the Duke of Marlborough. 

"My lord ; You receive this as an acknowledgment of your punctu- 
ality as to the time and place of meeting on Sunday last, though it was 
owing to you that it answered no purpose. The pageantry of being 
armed, and the ensign of your order, were useless, and too conspicuous : 
you needed no attendant ; the place was not calculated for mischief, nor 
was any intended. If you walk in the west aisle of Westminster Abbey, 
towards eleven o'clock on Sunday next, your sagacity will point out the 
person, whom you will address by asking his company to take a turn or 
two with you. You will not fail, on enquiry, to be acquainted with the 
name and place of abode ; according to which directions you will please 
to send two or three hundred pound bank notes the next day by the 
penny post. Exert not your curiosity too early : it is in your power to 
make me grateful on certain terms. I have friends who are faithful j 
but they do not bark before they bite. I am, &c. &c. F." 

Gentlemen, you see, the writer of the second letter speaks of being 
himself in the Park, or at least of knowing that the Duke was there, at 

VOL. iv. NO. xvi. K 


the time and place appointed : and therefore this was a farther circum- 
stance to convince the Duke, that the person, whom he had seen the 
Sunday before in Hyde Park, and spoke to, was the writer of the 
second letter. You see it speaks of the Duke's punctuality as to the 
time and place of meeting, the particular dress his grace was in, and 
assigns that as the reason of not speaking to him the Sunday before : so 
you see, gentlemen, that circumstance, which was a little unaccountable 
of itself/of the Duke's not being owned by the person whom he had 
seen on the Sunday before, is by the second letter accounted for; 
"The pageantry of being armed, and the ensign of his order." He had 
then only a star on, and that perhaps an old one, so as not to be conspi- 
cuous : so that this accounts for the person's not speaking to the Duke 
in Hyde Park. There can be no doubt at all, but that the writer of the 
second was the writer of the first letter. 

The consequence then of this second appointment to meet the writer 
of the letters in the west aisle of Westminster Abbey, you wijj observe 
public places were appointed, and at public times ; the first in Hyde 
Park, the second in prayer-time at Westminster Abbey, where the Duke 
was <e by his sagacity to point out the person" the writer of this letter. 
The Duke accordingly went to Westminster Abbey, to the west aisle 
(though indeed, properly speaking, we don't know which to call the 
west aisle, the church standing east and west). His grace went to the 
western-most part of the Abbey, and observed nobody lurking or 
standing in circumstances suspicious : after a little time, his grace 
was surprized to see that the same person, whom he had seen the 
Sunday before exactly at the spot in Hyde Park, appeared just in this 
place at the west end of Westminster Abbey ; but he was surprised the 
more, that this person did not speak to him. Perhaps his grace had not 
then considered the tenor of this letter ; for it was not to be expected, 
that the writer would address the Duke, but rather refers to the Duke's 
sagacity : " Your sagacity will point out the person j" it then directs, 
" whom you will address by asking his company to take a turn or two 
with you." His grace perhaps did not consider this exactly ; but 
waiting some time for the person to speak to him, and finding he did 
not, his grace asked him, " Sir, have you any thing to say to me ?" " No, 
my lord." t{ Have you nothing at all to say to me ?" " No." " Have you 
nothing at all to say to me ?" No, he had nothing to say to him. Now 
I should have mentioned to you, when this person came into the Abbey, 
another person came in with him, who seemed by his appearance 
to be a substantial tradesman, a good sort of man. These two persons, 
after stopping and looking about at the monuments near the west gate 
of the Abbey, the Duke being sure one of them was the same man he 
had seen before in Hyde Park, his grace thought proper to go and stand 
by them, to see if that person would speak to him. Seeing the duke 
took no notice of him, they both went towards the choir : the stranger 
went into the choir, and the man that his grace had seen in the Park, 
came back again (leaving his friend there) to the spot where the duke 
was. The duke then asked him, whether he had any thing to say to 
him ? No, he had nothing at all to say to him. No, he had nothing at 
all to say. Then the duke walked a little on the other side of the 
aisle, to see whether the man would follow him, or had a mind to speak 
to him at another spot. He observed the man looked eagerly at him j 
may-be it may be understood, he expected the duke's "sagacity would 


point out the man." However, the duke did not do what the letter 
required, that is, ask him to take a turn with him. 

At this second time there was somebody that was with the duke 
(when I say with him, I don't mean close to him, but) near enough, so 
as to take notice what passed, in order to apprehend the person, so as to 
put it beyond all doubt that he was the author of those letters. The 
duke, and this attendant of his, went out at the west door of the Abbey, 
in order to go to his coach. Now you will find by-and-bye, in the next 
letter, that the writer of these letters took notice of this attendant, but 
was under no apprehension of being watched by any body else ; and 
that will account for those circumstances I am going to mention: 
as soon as the duke went out of the Abbey, that man, whom the duke 
had seen at both these places, watched the duke out of the Abbey, and 
as soon as his grace had passed the door of the Abbey, he went up, hid 
himself in a corner, concealed from a possibility of being seen by 
his grace in case he had looked back, and so watched him into his coach. 
It maybe asked, why his grace, upon having such clear conviction in 
his mind, that that person must be the writer of both the letters, did not 
apprehend him ? his grace will tell you, he did not think himself justified 
in so doing j he could not reconcile it to his own mind to take up 
a man, where there was a possibility of his innocence. 

Gentlemen, a few days after this, came a third letter to the duke, 
wrapped up in a very small compass, and directed to his Grace the Duke 
of Maryborough at his house. You will see, by comparing the direc- 
tion, that this third letter was wrote by the writer of the first letter : It 
begins, " My lord, I am fully convinced you had a companion on 
Sunday." So far it is proved, that the writer of these letters was in the 
Park on the first Sunday, and saw the duke there ; and was in the Abbey 
on the second Sunday, and saw the duke there ; and that it was the 
same man that the duke saw at both these times. " I interpret it 
as owing to the weakness of human nature : but such proceedings 
is far from beiag ingenious, and may produce bad effects, whilst it is 
impossible to answer the end proposed." Guarded through all. " You 
will see me again soon, as it were by accident, and may easily find 
where I go to ; in consequence of which, by being sent to, 1 shall wait 
on your grace, but expect to be quite alone, and converse in whispers. 
You will likewise give your honour, upon meeting, that no part of the 
conversation shall transpire." So that you see, as he was guarded 
before, he was determined to make it impossible to be discovered : 
if they were to converse in whispers, and to be quite alone, it was 
impossible for other evidence to rise up against him " These and 
the former terms complied with, insure your safety ; my revenge, in 
case of non-compliance, (or any scheme to expose me) will be slower, 
but not less sure, and strong suspicion the utmost that can possibly 
ensue upon it." You see, how artful he had contrived it : he was 
determined that nothing more than strong suspicion should ever be 
in evidence against him "While the chances will be tenfold against 
you. You will possibly be in doubt after the meeting, but it is quite 
necessary the outside should be a mask of the in. The family of 
the BLOODS is not extinct, though they are not in my scheme." The 
word BLOODS is in capital letters. That is a dreadful name ? As Felton 
was the villain who assassinated the Duke of Buckingham, so this is the 
name of the fellow who seized the Duke of Ormond, and was going 

i 2 


to carry him to Tyburn to execute him, and also who stole the crown 
out of the Tower of London. 

You see, gentlemen, by this third letter, that the duke was to expect 
to hear something farther from the writer of these letters. It contains 
no appointment, but leads the duke to expect he shall see the writer 
again as by accident, and was to observe where he should go to, that the 
duke might know where to send for him ; and that he would come in 
consequence of being sent for ; but when he came to the duke the 
terms were, to be a secret conversation, not in the presence of a 
third person, and that too by whispers, and the duke promising, upon his 
honour, that no part of it should transpire, without which he was 
not led to think the writer should disclose anything at all. The first 
letter was dated and received the 29th November, the second received 
the next week, the third in the second week of December, and the last 
was some time in April. 

The duke waited, expecting to hear farther ; but heard nothing more 
until the middle of April. About the 14th there came a letter to 
his grace, wrote in a mean hand, but not in imitation of a print hand, as 
the others were. These are the words of the fourth letter: 
" To his Grace the Duke of Marlborough. 

" May it please your grace j I have reason to believe, that the son of 
one Barnard, a surveyor in Abingdon-buildings, Westminster, is ac- 
quainted with some secrets that nearly concern your safety: his father 
is now out of town, which will give you an opportunity of questioning 
more privately. It would be useless to your grace, as well as dan- 
gerous to me, to appear more publicly in this affair. Your sincere 
friend, ANONYMOUS." 

"He frequently goes to Storey's-gate coffee-house." 

Gentlemen, the duke sent for Mr. Barnard, the son of Mr. Barnard, 
according to the directions in that letter. This letter, you will see, bears 
no date at all j no memorandum, or any thing which could possibly 
indicate when the letter was sent, or when the duke received it. The 
duke, when Mr. Barnard came, was sitting in his room ; and though 
upon opening the door of the outer room (which was at three score 
yards distance from where the duke was,) yet the moment Mr. Barnard 
entered the room, he was sure that was the man he had seen both 
in the Park and in the Abbey. Though the duke had no doubt in his 
own mind on the former circumstances, that the person whom he 
had seen before was the writer of the first letter, now he was fully con- 
vinced that he was the writer of all the letters. The duke was deter- 
mined the scheme should not so far take effect, as to engage himself 
upon his honour, that no part of the conversation should transpire ; if 
so, nothing could have prevailed upon him to prosecute : therefore you 
are not to expect he complied with a conversation in whispers, and 
a promise on the duke's part, that no part of the conversation should 
transpire. The third letter will tell you, that the person that entered the 
room was the writer of all these letters. As soon as he came into the 
room, the duke took him to the window, and asked him, whether 
he wanted to speak with him? "No, my lord." "No, Sir! I have 
received a letter, which tells me, that you are acquainted with some cir- 
cumstances that nearly concern my safety." "Not I, my lord." " This is 
very surprising, Sir! this is the letter;" and showed him the last letter. 
Still the duke had not given him any promise at all of not exposing the 


conversation. " Sir, it is very odd that you should be pointed out to 
me, to acquaint me with some circumstances relating to my safety, 
because it mentions some circumstances as to the time, the place 
where you are to be found, your father's being out of town, and the 
like." The prisoner incautiously said immediately, " My lord, my father 
was out of town at that time." " At what time, Sir ? The letter bears 
no date, nor have I mentioned to you a syllable when I received it : how 
came you to know when I received this letter, that you should tell me, 
your father was not in town at that time ? You speak clearly, as 
knowing when I received this letter ; therefore give me leave on this 
occasion to tell you, that I do not only suspect you know of this letter, 
but that you have sent to me some other letters that I have received 
before :" then acquainting him with the other three letters, his grace 
observing upon them, that it was very odd and strange, that the letters 
corresponded so exactly and decisively on him, he being always at 
the places at the time appointed, and that he being the person named in 
the fourth letter too, and that he knew the time of the duke's receiving 
that letter, the duke put it upon him, " Sir/V'am surprised at the writer 
of this letter ; one should suppose from the style, and its being gram- 
matically wrote, that the person who wrote it, had had some share 
of education j at least I am surprised that a man that has had any 
education at all, can descend to such a means of getting money." 
"My lord, your grace need not be surprised at thatj a man may 
be learned and very poor." Very fond was he of softening things. 
" My lord, you need not be affrighted : I dare say the writer of these 
letters is a very mad man.*' " Why ! you are very much concerned 
to apologize for the writer hereof," said the duke. Picking out this 
circumstance, the man does not know me, he expresses his very great 
surprise at my appearing in the Park with the ensign of my order, and 
my being armed as incautious as he had been before, he is incautious 
upon that too, and said, " Indeed I was surprised to see your grace 
armed." "Was you so ?" said the duke. "Was you surprised to 
see me armed ? Can any man doubt a moment who wrote these letters ? 
But, however, Mr. Barnard, as you insist upon it, and declare so 
solemnly your innocence, I will not so far invade the laws of hospitality, 
whatever crime you have done." (He would not for the world appre- 
hend a man in his own house whom he had sent for ; he let him go safe 
home again ; it was for that reason he would not give his promise not 
to reveal the conversation j but in regard to the public he was deter- 
mined to prosecute.) The duke said to him, " Sir, if you are not 
the writer of these papers, it much becomes you to find out who is j 
for your name is particularly mentioned in this last letter ; either you 
are the writer, or allow me to say, somebody else owes you very ill-will 
that was the writer of them." I am relying merely on the terms of the 
last letter, wherein he was to inform his grace of things that nearly 
concerned his safety, so much to the hazard of his own life ? What 
became him, as having a regard to his own reputation and safety ? To 
determine, as far as in his power, to find out the writer ; nay to have 
given the duke assurance that he would do it : instead of that, what was 
his behaviour ? A smile of contempt an unmannerly laugh in the 
duke's face, as if it did not concern him at all. 

Gentlemen, I should think that to this there can hardly be a circum- 
stance added more clearly to convince any man alive of the circum- 


stances of this man's being the author of these letters ; but you will 
iind afterwards the prisoner (for what reason let him tell if he can) 
told his grace, he had desired his companion that was with him in 
Westminster Abbey to leave him : Why ? " Because he thought the 
duke wanted to tell him of some place he had for him." Good God ! 
how could he imagine he wanted to tell him of a place ? A person 
whom he had never seen before he saw him in the Park, how could he 
expect that ? This was his awkward reason for desiring his companion 
to leave him. 

I beg pardon, if I have omitted any thing ; these are the circum- 
stances that have occurred to me on this occasion ; they are so strong 
and necessary in the proof of the prisoner's guilt, that I will venture 
to say, it is much more satisfactory to an indifferent person, than posi- 
tive testimony the positive testimony of any man, as men are liable to 
mistakes, as mistake in time, a mistake in persons, will exceedingly vary 
the case j but variety of circumstances, which tally in their own 
nature, cannot lie or deceive. 

This prosecution is commenced merely for the sake of justice ; I am 
instructed to say from his grace, it is perfectly indifferent to him 
what will be the issue of the trial : he thought it his duty to come here, 
and leave it to his country to determine as they shall think proper." 

The evidence, which bore out this address, and which was unshaken 
by cross-examination, need not be given here ; but the extraordinary part 
of the story is in the prisoner's complete answer to the accusation. In 
his defence the prisoner merely said, "I am entirely innocent of this 
affair with which I am charged. I leave it to the Court and the 
jury, with the evidence that will be produced." He then brought the fol- 
lowing testimony. 

John Barnard was sworn, 

J. Barnard. I am father to the prisoner at the bar. 

What is his employ ? He is employed in my business as a builder 
and surveyor principally ; in not only that, and drawing plans, but also 
in receiving great sums of money. 

Have his accounts always stood right and clear? They always have. 

Do you look upon him to be a sober man ? I have had great reason 
to believe him such, more particularly lately. 

Has he been possessed of large sums of money ? He has, of consi- 
derable sums 5 I have oftener asked him for money than he me. 

Had you any occasion to send him to Kensington on Sunday the 4th 
of December? I had nothing, but circumstances brought the day to 
my mind since : I gave him an order on that Sunday morning, when we 
were at breakfast, to go to Kensington, to know whether there was some 
money paid by the treasurer of the turnpikes for gravel : I have a bro- 
ther there, named Joseph} he went there and did his business, and dined 
with my brother. 

How do you know that? Because he told me so ; and the solicitor 
of the turnpike told me he had been with him, and in consequence of 
which I had my money afterwards. 

Have you ever heard your son take any notice of his meeting with the 
Duke of Marlborough that day ? When he came home, he told me, 
he had met the Duke of Marlborough, and these circumstances of his 
grace's taking notice of him j he mentioned it as an extraordinary thing. 


I asked him, if he had not looked a little impudently (as he has a near 
sight) at him, or pulled his glass out ? He said, he saw another gentle- 
man at a distance, and the duke was armed ; and he imagined there 
might be a duel going forward ; he has from that time to this mentioned 
it as a very strange event several times in my house, without any reserve 
at all. 

Cross examination. 

At the time you sent your son to Kensington on the 4ih of December, 
suppose you had not given him an order to go there, whether he was 
not at liberty to go where he pleased? Yes j I never restrain him. 

Did he say he was surprised to see the duke without a great coat ? 
I cannot remember that particular. 

Did you hear him mention his seeing the Duke of Marlborough in 
Westminster-Abbey ? I have very often, and very publicly, and with 
some surprise j as he has that in Hyde-Park. I said to him, I would 
not have you be public in speaking of things in this kind, lest a use be 
made of it to your disadvantage. 

Thomas Barnard sworn. 

T. Barnard. I am first cousin to the prisoner at the bar. On Satur- 
day the 3rd of December I was at Kensington, and lay at my uncle's 
house there and dined there. On the Sunday the prisoner came there 
before dinner, he said he had been to do some business that way. He 
dined with us 5 there were my uncle, aunt, he and I ; he related that 
circumstance to us of meeting with the Duke of Marlborough in Hyde- 
Park j he said he rode up to him, and asked if he knew who he was ; 
he answered, No j he replied, I am the Duke of Marlborough. He re- 
lated it with some cheerfulness, though as a matter of surprise. 

How long have you known the prisoner ? From his birth : he is in 
business with his father ; I always understood he would succeed his fa- 
ther j I never knew him to behave any otherwise than well in my life. 
I never thought him extravagant, nor never heard so; I had always 
looked upon him to be an honest man ; his father is in very great 

Should you look upon it, that a small place would be equal to the 
chance of succeeding his father in his business ? I should never have 
thought of such a thing j I looked upon his situation in life to be a very 
extraordinary thing : I thought he would give the preference to that 
above any thing else. 


Do you think he would refuse a good place ? No man would refuse 
a place that is to his advantage. 

Joseph Barnard sworn. 

J. Barnard. I am uncle to the prisoner at the bar ; I live at Ken- 
sington ; my nephew, Thomas Barnard, lay at my house on the Satur- 
day night, and dined with the prisoner at the bar on the Sunday. I re- 
member he then mentioned having met with the Duke of Marlborough 
in Hyde-Park, while we were sitting at dinner. I said I was surprised 
he should meet with him that day; he said he saw but one gentleman 
at a distance, and the duke was armed ; and his grace looked him full 
in the face, very earnestly (which he seemed to speak with a great deal 
of pleasure to me) ; he is very near-sighted, he can see nothing at a dis- 
tance without the use of a glass. I have heard him since speak four or 
five times of seeing the duke in Westminster-Abbey. 


How long ago ? About a month ago. He is brought up under his 
father in very considerable business, and a man of some property besides, 
and was employed as his clerk or book-keeper. 

Is he a sober man ? Very sober ; I never heard to the contrary ; 
neither did I ever hear his father speak of him as idle or dilatory. 

Thomas Calcut sworn. 

T. Calcut. I live at Kensington : I remember the prisoner coming 
there on a Sunday morning ; a very cold, foggy morning : with some 
message from his father to me, to know whether the solicitor had paid 
some money or not. He was under his father, as I am under mine ; he 
desired me to go with him ; I said, stay and dine with me : he said, he 
could not promise, because he had promised to dine with his uncle 
Joseph ; he went into the parlour, and said, it is vastly cold : there has 
been the oddest accident happened as J came over the Park ! the Duke 
of Marlborough came up to me, and asked me, if I knew him ? I said, 
No. He asked me, if I wanted any thing with him ? I told him, No. 
He said, I am the Duke of Marlborough, if you want any thing with me j 
then the duke went away, and he came there. He expressed a great 
surprise at it, and I thought it a very odd affair. 
Henry Clive, Esq. sworn. 

H. Clive. I have known the prisoner two years ; I remember dining 
with him on the 8th December, at his father's house, with a great deal 
of company j I heard him then say at dinner, that some few days before, 
he had met the Duke of Marlborough in Hyde-Park ; that the duke 
asked him, if he had any business with him ? He said, No ; he then 
told him who he was, and asked him the same again j he said, No. 
That the duke seemed in some confusion, and was armed ; and he 
thought he was about a duel ; and indeed I thought it was a very great 
lie. I have gone very frequently to his father's in relation to Brentford 
Bridge. I have no other acquaintance with him, only going to his fa- 
ther's, so cannot say any thing to his character, either frugal or extra- 

Can you name any body that dined there that day? Yes, there was 
Mr. Wilson and his lady, Mr. Tunstall and his lady, another gentleman 
and his wife, and the prisoner's younger brother that is at Westminster 

Mrs. Mary Wilson, sworn. 

Mrs. Wilson. I dined at Mr. Barnard's on Tuesday the 8th December j 
the prisoner I remember said he had been in Hyde-Park some days be- 
fore, and there he saw a gentleman on horseback come up to him, and 
ask him, if he had anything to say to him? He said, No; then he 
said, I am the Duke of Marlborough, now you know me, have you any 
thing to say to me ? He said, No. He talked of this very freely to us all. 

James Greenwood sworn. 

Greenwood. I live at Deptford, with a relation in the brewing-way ; 
I came from Deptford on Saturday to the prisoner's father's ; and on 
the Sunday following I was there at breakfast ; I solicited the prisoner 
to get himself dressed to go with me into the Park, being to meet a per- 
son at twelve o'clock ; I with a good deal of difficulty got him to dress 
himself j I put my shirt on in the parlour, and after that he put on his ; 
I fancy we breakfasted about nine o'clock ; when we got to the end of 
Henry VIFs chapel, the prisoner would have gone the other way into 
the Park without going through the Abbey j I took hold of his sleeve, 


and said, Barnard, you shall go through the Abbey ; this was a little 
after a eleven ; this was no unusual thing j we have several times walked 
in the Park, and sometimes parted. 

Which is the nearest way to the Park } I do not know which is the 
nearest way, through the Abbey, or by the side of it ; this was the first 
time I believe that I ever, saw the monument of General Hargrave. 
After that we walked to the monument erected at the public expence 
for Captain Cornwall ; the preacher was in the pulpit ; when we were 
standing at Captain Cornwall's monument, the prisoner made some 
observation on the execution of it in his own way. After we had 
stayed there some time, I saw his grace the Duke of Marlborough, who 
was got pretty near us j upon seeing the duke, I jogged him by the 
elbow, and said, step this way ; he seemed to look at him. 

Had you heard what happened in Hyde-Park, previous to this r I 
had j I believe it was told me by the prisoner at the bar ; on my jogging 
him we walked up the middle aisle towards the choir. I said, Did you 
see that gentleman in the blue coat, or do you know him ? No, said 
he, not I, No, said I, it is the Duke of Marlborough ; we will walk to 
the monument again. The duke came, and placed himself pretty near 
me a second time j after this we walked away. I believe we walked 
some considerable time in that aisle in which is the monument of Sir 
Godfrey Kneller, there I believe we passed and repassed again. 

Why did you jog him ? Because he is very near-sighted. At last, I 
think it so happened, we passed the duke between two of the pillars j 
and as I had hold of his arm walking together, there was barely room 
for three people to pass a-breast j the duke rather gave way, and made, 
as I thought, a kind of a bow. Upon this I said, the Duke of Marlbo- 
rough's behaviour is extremely particular j he certainly has something to 
say to you ; 1 suppose he does not choose to say it while I am with you, 
I will go into the choir, and do you walk up and down here, and he will 
possibly speak to you. While I was there, I looked j the first thing I 
saw was the Duke of Marlborough and the prisoner at the bar, with 
their heads bowing together, as if it was the first salutation. 

Had the prisoner the least inclination to go into the Abbey before you 
proposed it to him ? No ; he did not discover any. 

Did he discover any inclination to be left alone, when you pro- 
posed to go into the choir ? No, he did not in the least ; in some few 
minutes after, the prisoner and I met together, he told me the Duke of 
Marlborough was gone out of the Abbey, he had seen him go out. I 
said, what passed ? To which he replied, the duke said, did you speak 
to me? or who spoke first I cannot tell. 

In this transaction did the prisoner appear openly, or if he had some 
secret transaction to do with the duke ? No, it was open and clear. 

Did you see the duke come in ? No, I did not ; we were employed 
in looking at the monuments ; we looked at several. 

What did you do when you first came in ? We walked along, and 
looked on the monuments. 

Did you see the prisoner's eye fixed on any person ? No, I did not. 

Is Mr. Barnard very near sighted ? He is ; J question whether he 
can be able to see a person across this room. 

Where did you go, when you went out of the Abbey ? We went im- 
mediately into the Park j and after walking there, we met with two 
ladies whom I knew, and to whom Mr. Barnard was not unknown, to 


whom we related this affair j he always repeated these things, that is, 
this and that in Hyde-Park, as matter of great curiosity. 

How long have you been acquainted with him r I have been ac- 
quainted with him seven years. 

What is his character? I know nothing to the contrary but that he 
is an industrious, sober young man. 

Did you ever hear that he was a profligate, expensive man ? No, never. 

His father is in great business, is he not ? His father's business is a 
very considerable thing. 

William Ball, sworn. 

Ball. I am the master of Storey's-gate coffee-house ; I remember 
Mr. Merrick coming to my house, to enquire for Mr. Barnard ; he asked 
me, if Mr. Barnard was at my house? I said, leave any message, I will 
deliver it to him j he said, he wanted to see him that evening ; he left his 
message, I delivered it to him, and he came rather before eight o'clock to 
him. He has used my house some years, always a well-behaved man ; I never 
perceived any extravagancy in him, always a sober, regular man. I have 
heard him speak of having met the Duke of Maryborough, but not till 
after this : he said he had been to his grace, at his grace's house j this 
was as he called at my house, after he had been there. 

Did he mention what had passed ? No, he did not ; only that he had 
seen his grace. 


Did he not tell you any thing that passed ? He did not tell me a 
syllable of it. 

What did you say to him } I told him, may-be he was going to have 
a commission ; he said, he would not thank his grace, except it was a 
very good one. 

How did he appear as to cheerfulness, or dullness, or the like ? He 
seemed to be very cheerful, not in the least concerned j the same as 
usual, composed, rather more cheerful. 

Counsel. We will now shew his behaviour after he was apprehended. 

Mr. Ford. While he was in custody, Mr. Fielding did me the honour 
of sending for me ; he told me it was upon some business which con- 
cerned the Duke of Marlborough's life ; he asked me to go along with 
him and Mr. Box to New Prison, which I consented to ; we went toge- 
ther in a coach j this was about twelve at night, and Mr. Barnard was 
then in bed j I have really forgot what day it was : Mr. Fielding told 
him, he had omitted examining his pockets at the time he was before 
him -, he then searched his pockets, in order to see whether he had any 
letters, or any writings that might give light into the affairs ; he very 
readily let me look into his pocket-book and papers. Mr. Fielding with 
great candour told him, he was in the hands of a very honourable pro- 
secutor, and one that would be as glad to discover his innocence as his 
guilt. Mr. Fielding asked him for his keys, and he gave him the keys 
of his scrutoire and compting-house with great readiness ; and I remem- 
ber that I then told him, that, if he was guilty, some copies might be 
found to correspond with the original letters ; and if nothing of that 
sort did appear, it would be a circumstance in his favour. 

Did you or Mr. Fielding tell him he was not obliged to part with his 
keys, and did he do it as a matter of choice ? I do not recollect that ; 
I know he parted with them very readily. 

The Rev. Dr. Markham sworn. 

Dr. Markham. I have known the prisoner some years; I have always 


considered him as a young man of remarkable sobriety, and attention to 
business : I have had some experience of him ; I entrusted him with the 
execution of some matters of importance relating to myself, in regard to 
surveying and valuing estates, in which he acquitted himself ably and 
honestly j that is the character he always had : he lives in my neighbour- 
hood, his father is a man of considerable property, and carries on a large 

Then you don't suppose the prisoner to be in distressed circumstances? 
I never supposed it, I have no reason to imagine it; if he had come 
to me, wanting money, he might easily have imposed on me, he might 
have had any thing of me ; he is one of the chief persons I trusted, and 
I don't know a man on whom I would have had a greater reliance ; I 
thought him remarkably able in his business, and very likely to be a 
considerable man ; and I never was more astonished in my life than 
when I heard this strange story. 

Samual Cox, Esq. sworn. 

S. Cox. I have known Mr. Barnard about the space of three years 
last past. The beginning of my acquaintance was on the account of 
his surveying of houses in the New-Square, Dean's-Yard j the surveys 
were generally made by him j he did his business with such accuracy, 
that I have always thought him a man very attentive to his business, and 
very unlikely of being charged with this fact ; and upon his being em- 
ployed upon public schemes, I employed him in my own affairs. I em- 
ployed his father to finish some houses for me at Hamersmith, the son 
was constantly employed till the 6th of April last ; I have at different 
times paid to Mr. Barnard about 700 all paid into the hands of the 
prisoner, except 50 or 70 of it. He has appeared as the person that 
managed his father's business : if he had come to me, and mentioned 
any want of money, upon his father's being out of town, or that like, he 
might have had 200 or 30Q at any time. When I first was acquainted 
with him, I observed he had a remarkable short sight j when he has looked 
full at me, I have thought he sneered at me ; he has such a fall with his 
eye-lids on the account of his short-sightedness ; I have found his eyes 
so fixed upon me, that I have been going to speak to him, which by my 
long acquaintance with him I since found was only an accident. 
Robert Vansittart, Esq. sworn. 

R. Vansittart. I have known Mr. Barnard about five or six years j 
my acquaintance with him was by being acquainted with his father, who 
was employed in carrying on a large building for Mr. Lee, an acquaint- 
ance of mine in Oxfordshire j and these five years I have been ac- 
quainted with the son, and frequently in company with him. In the be- 
ginning of April he was in my chamber, putting up some book-cases ; 
I remember one morning 'at breakfast he told me the circumstance of 
meeting the Duke of Marlborough in Hyde-Park and in Westminster 
Abbey, in the same way as the Court has been told from his grace and 
the rest of the witnesses : it appeared to me to be a very strange story, 
and he seemed to tell it as such, as I or any body else would have told it. 
I suspended my judgment upon it, and never related it to any body, only 
to my father and another gentleman, and they looked upon it as a great 
lie that Barnard had invented j I, knowing his character, did not take it 
as such, but thought he must have known it to be as he said. 

What is your opinion of him as to his business ? From my own per- 
sonal acquaintance with him, and from the many surveys I have seen of 


his, be certainly is very capable and master of his business. I never 
heard any thing ill as to his private character. 

Did you ever see him write ? No ; he draws very well; I have seen 
him draw. 

John Smith, Esq. sworn. 

J. Smith. I have known him eight or ten years, and his father's 
family twenty-five. He always appeared an industrious, sober, diligent 
man, particularly within these four or five years, since he has come into 
business wilh his father. I considered him as a very promising genius 
in his way, and one capable of conducting his business with reputation 
and character. 

Did you look upon him likely to be driven to distress, or in want of a 
place ? No, I did not. I can with great truth say, most of the pay- 
ments in my compting-house, on his father's account, have most of 
them been paid by the hands of this young man ; except the last 500 ; 
then Mr. Barnard and his wife came over and dined with me, and paid 
it j and then I blamed him for not bringing his son. 

What are you ? I am a timber merchant. 

Joshua Smith, Esq., sworn. 

Josh. Smith, I am in partnership with my father, the last evidence. 
I have known the prisoner several years ; I always thought him a very 
honest, sober man, capable in his profession : the money that has been 
paid to us lately, except that 500, has been by him ; they never paid 
less than 100 at a time, except once. 

Have you any reason to imagine him in desperate circumstances? 
There is no reason as I know of to imagine so. 
Robert Tunstall, Esq. sworn. 

R. Tunstall. I have known him two years. 

What is his general character? He is industrious, and very capable 
of his business. His behaviour has been prudent ; he is the principal 
man in his father's business in drawing and scheming.* 
Mr. Peter Brit shell sworn. 

P. Brushell. I have known him from a child. 

What ,s his character ? I always took him to be a very sober, honest 
man. His father has done a great deal of business for me, and is now 
at work for me. 

Who did you generally pay the money to ? I generally paid the 
father j if the prisoner had applied to me, I would have let him have 
100 at any time. 

Is he capable of business ? He is very capable : he drew a plan 
for me last Saturday was se'nnight. 

Did you look upon him to be in desperate or distressed circumstances ? 
No, I did not. 

Has he always been a visible man ? Always. 
Mr. Jelfe sworn. 

Jelfe. I am the king's mason. 1 have known the prisoner seven 
years or more. 

Do you look upon him to be capable of his business ? I believe 
he is a very capable man in his business. 

What is his general character? Always a very worthy, honest man. 

Did you ever see him guilty of any extravagancy ? No, never. 

Do you live near him ? I am a very near neighbour to him, and keep 
him company on evenings, within this year or two more particularly. 

* Mr. John Barnard, the father of the prisoner, built Kew Bridge for this Mr. Tunstall. 


William Robinson, Esq. sworn. 

Robinson. I have known him about six or seven years. 
Is he a person capable of his profession ? I believe he is. 
What has been his behaviour? I always looked upon him to be 
a very sober, diligent, frugal man. 

Did you look upon him to be in desperate circumstances ? No, not 
at all. 

Thomas Kynaston, Esq. sworn. 
Kynaston. I have known him six or seven years. 
What are you ? I belong to the board of works. 
What is your opinion of the prisoner's situation ? I think he is in a 
good one. 

What has been his behaviour ? That has been always good. 

Mr. Keynton Cowse sworn. 

Cowse. I have known him seven years, and been in his company 
many times. 

What is his character ? He is a very worthy young man, sober and 
industrious, always attending his father's business. 

Mr. Uffort sworn. 

Uffort. I have known him about six or seven years ; he is a sober 
sedate young man as ever I met with. I have done business for him 
several times. 

Mr. Brent sworn. 

Brent. I have known. him upwards of three years. 
What is his character ? He has a good character j he is a very indus- 
trious man. I have frequently paid him money. 

Mr. Jones sworn. 

Jones. I have known him several years. 

What is his general character? He is very honest; no ways 
extravagant, that could lead him in into a desperate state j he is as 
moral a man as any I know, and has had as good a character. 

Mr. Wilson sworn. 

Wilson. I have known him about seven years. 

What has been his behaviour during that time ? It has been always 
very well. I always looked upon him as an honest man. 

Did you ever look upon him to be in a desperate way in his fortune ? 
No, never. 

Q to Mr. Barnard the elder. Where was you when your son was sent 
for to the Duke of Marl borough's ? Mr. Barnard. I was then out 
of town. I have not been in town above one week these five or six 

Mr. Sergeant Davy, evidently shaken in his own mind by these 
witnesses, commented in his reply, with much acumen though fairly, 
on the evidence ; when he had concluded, the jury at once acquitted the 
prisoner, and a second indictment against him was then abandoned 
by the prosecution. To complete the mystery, the Duke died within the 
year of the period of this investigation, before the session had expired, and 
the matter remains to this day unexplained. 




And dance and song within these walls have sounded, 
And breathing music rolled in dulcet strains, 

And lovely feet have o'er these gray stones bounded 
In snowy garments and embroidered trains 

Such things have been. 

ABOUT nine miles rapid railroad travelling brought me from the metropo- 
lis of the Emerald Isle to the lofty promontory, called in ancient Irish by 
the appropriate name of Ben eider or the Eagle's Cliff. In those primi- 
tive ages its secluded position the extreme point of the coast and 
the sterile aspect of the rough hillsides affording little temptation to the 
agriculturist, left it the retreat for religious men, bent on avoiding a 
wordly life, and, if these lovers of retirement wished to attain a still 
more retired habitation, the neighbouring Island of Lambay lay conve- 
niently near. Between Lambay and the coast is Ireland's Eye, distant 
about a mile a mass of irregularly shaped rocks, with little soil on the 
surface, and measuring about a mile and a half in circumference. 
Here are the remains of an ancient church, founded by St. Nissan, in the 
sixth century, and the venerated book of the Four Gospels, called the 
" Garland of Howth/' was preserved here. Opposite, on the bold cliff, 
overhanging: the sea, are the picturesque ruins of the Abbey, or College 
of Howth, supposed to have been built by Sitric, a Danish Prince, 
A.D. 1038. The ruins are very magnificent, enclosed in a quadrangular 
area defended by a rampart the embattled walls pleasingly contrasting 
with the peaceful aspect of the time worn ruins. The church- yard is 
shamefully allowed to become a perfect garden of weeds. I could 
hardly make any way through the groves of nettles, and other weeds 
which cover the entire space ; some effort is made to preserve the build- 
ings, and a strong iron railing protects a curious old monument to one 
of the Lords Howth, and his Lady, whose effigies, in their respective 
habiliments, are wrought in the stone forming the lid. The date is 
1430. Not far distant is Howth Castle. The entrance, close to 
the church, is modern, yet tasteful j clusters of circular granite pillars 
with conical capitals support massive iron gates, and open on a well 
kept very exclusive demesne. The castle is a long, rather low, struc- 
ture, flanked by square battlemented towers at the angles, and the 
square hall door in the centre, surmounted by a pediment, is approached 
by a lofty flight of steps. The hall is a very fine one, and the lover of 
antiquities has a treat. Antique armour the weapons of days when 
war was the profession of most men are here. A large two-handed 
sword is pointed out as having belonged to the founder of the family, 


whose adventures by flood and field rival any recounted in romance or 
fable. The name of Sir Armoricus Tristram deserves to be recorded. 
He it was who formed the compact with his brother-in-law Sir John 
De Courcy, in St. Mary's church at Rouen, that they should become 
brothers in arms as well as brothers in love, and whatever spoil they should 
take, in land or wealth, should be equally divided between them. On 
the strength of this agreement, they sought achievements in various 
parts of France and England, and turning their prow westward they 
"steered their bark for Erin's Isle," and anchored off Howth. De 
Courcy was confined to the ship by sickness, and the command devolv- 
ing on Sir Armoricus, he ordered a landing. The Irish assembled in 
haste, but not arriving in time to prevent the invaders reaching the shore, 
attacked them at the bridge of Evora, which crosses a mountain stream 
on the north side of Howth. This conflict was maintained on both 
sides with the desperate valour of men preferring to die than yield. 
Seven sons of Sir Armoricus were slain, together with many of his 
kindred, but the Irish were routed. In clearing out the foundation of 
a church built on the spot some years since, a quantity of bones were 
discovered, together with an antique anvil, with bridle, bits, and other 
accoutrements. This might hare been the armourer's anvil used in 
closing up the rivets preparatory to the engagement. The result of the 
victory was to give the lands and castle of Howth to the gallant Sir 
Armoricus, as his share of the conquest. The account of his death is 
a strong proof of his valour. While engaged with some of his knights 
in making an incursion into Connaught, they were surprised and sur- 
rounded by a superior force yet a chance of escape existed the 
knights suggested to avail themselves of the swiftness of their steeds 
and save themselves by flight, but Sir Armoricus disdained life on such 
terms. He dismounted from his gallant charger, drew his sword, and 
kissing the cross forming the guard, thrust it into his horse's side. His 
example was followed by all the knights except two, who acted as 
videttes, and they alone returned to tell the sad tale that the brave 
Sir Armoricus, and his companions, died as became Norman knights, with 
their faces to the foeman. The family name was changed from 
Tristram to St. Lawrence on the following occasion. One of the lords of 
the race commanded an army about to engage in battle against the Danes 
on St. Lawrence's Day. He made a vow to the Saint that if victorious 
he would assume the name of St. Lawrence, and entail it on his 
posterity. The Danes fled and the name retained. 

A long flight of steps leads from the hall to a chamber, in which is a pic- 
ture representing a female figure mounted on a white horse, in the act of 
receiving a child from a peasant. This is supposed to refer to the tradition 
of the celebrated Granu Uile, or Grace O'Malley, who, returning from the 
Court of Queen Elizabeth, landed at Howth, and proceeded to the castle, 
but found the gates shut, the family having gone to dinner. Enraged 
at this utter want of Irish hospitality, the indignant chieftainess proceeded 
to the shore, where the young lord was at nurse, hurried with him on board, 
and sailed to Connaught where her castle stood. An ample apology 
being made and promise of future hospitality to all such guests, l the 
child was restored, on the express stipulation that the gates should be 
always thrown open when the family went to dinner. There is a bed 
shown in which King William III slept. In the saloon is a full length 
of that curious combination of good and evil Dean Swift, with the 


draper's letters in his hand. The notorious Wood is crouching beside 
him, and his half-pence are scattered about. In a most entertaining and 
ably written work, "The Homes and Haunts of the Poets," Mr. Howitt 
has taken some pains to prove that Mr. Wood was not at all to blame, 
and much more " sinned against than sinning." 

The antiquity of this family in Ireland may be judged from the fore- 
going remarks. The title of Baron was conferred so far back as 
1177, a few years after the arrival of the English. In 1^67 the 
Barony was merged in the title of Viscount St. Lawrence, then 
created Earl of Howth. The alliances and offices filled by various 
members of this noble house would occupy a large space j the fifteenth 
Baron was Lord Chancellor of Ireland, A.D. 1483 ; he married the 
second daughter of the Duke of Somerset, which entitles Lord Howth 
to claim descent from the renowned English Monarch King Edward III. 
The present peer is the 29th in succession from the founder of the family, 
Sir Armoricus Tristram. The Earl married, in 1826, Lady Emily de 
Burgh, second daughter of the late Earl of Clanricarde, and has one son 
and four daughters : the beautiful and amiable Countess died in 1842, to 
the universal regret of every one who had the honour of her acquaint- 
ance. His eldest son, the Viscount St. Lawrence, is a Lieutenant in 
the 7th Hussars, and is at present on the Staff of his Excellency the 
Earl of Clarendon, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. 

p, co. Corfe, 


" Swift Anniduff, which of the Englishman 
Is called Blackwater," 

WASHES the trunks of tall trees that fringe the lawns of Renny, and the 
Irish Rhine, as this noble river has been justly termed, still murmurs past 
a magnificent oak, under the shade of whose far stretching boughs the 
Poet of the Age, Edmund Spencer, is said to have composed the Faerie 
Queene. And to this monarch of the wood comes many an humble 
bard, desirous to pay the tribute of his homage ; full of veneration for 
the genius which nourished beneath its branches. What glorious aspi- 
rations were poured forth on the spot ? How many splendid stanzas, 
rich in wondrous imagery, and brilliant thoughts, found a voice and 
birth under this tree ! It is a meet spot for a poet to compose in. The 
banks here are high and precipitous, and clothed in wood, and their soli- 
tude would lead you to suppose the busy world shut out, and this the 
happy valley of Rasselas. The fame of this tree is a great attraction to 
Renny, and Spencer's Oak is regarded with becoming honour. Though 
there is no doubt that Renny formed a portion of the poet's estate in this 
county, his usual residence was several miles distant at Kilcolman Castle ; 
and, it was not until after his death, which was hastened by the ruin of 
his fortune attending the destruction of Kilcolman by the insurgents in 
1597, that his family occupied Renny prominently. This property was 
a portion of the great Desmond estate, from which Edmund Spencer 
obtained a grant of 3028 acres. And close by the Mansion-house are 
the venerable remains of a castle, boldly situated on the verge of a mag- 
nificent ledge of rocks. This castle is considered to have belonged to 

RUNNY. 127 

the Geraldines. The dwelling of the Spencers lay in the rear of the 
present house, which is not of any antiquity, and some of the rooms have 
been turned to account. In one, now used as a dairy, there is a tragical 
circumstance related as having occurred to a descendant of Spencer's. 
He had contracted an intimacy with his housekeeper, which she expected 
would cause him to marry her great was her anger to learn that he was 
on the eve of consigning her to infamy, by marrying another. She resolved 
on vengeance, and, while in the act of shaving him, as was the habit of 
this Lothario, she cut his throat. This Mr. O'Flanagan correctly states 
in his Guide to the Blackwater to have occurred in the small antique 
dwelling at Renny j but he does not, as Mr. Howitt in the " Homes and 
Haunts of British Poets," attributes to him thereby mean the present 
mansion, which, as the latter writer justly observes, is a good modern 

Renny-House, formerly the property of the Reverend C. Wallis, who 
evidently aspired to high dignities in the church, as the stone mitres on 
the gate piers attest, is a quiet respectable country seat. The rooms are 
well proportioned, and commodious, and afford several exquisite views. 
One, from the large drawing room, is a perfect picture. It takes in a 
shelving steep bank well wooded, and overlooking a spacious dell, with 
the bright mirror-like river flowing through fair meadowy niches. 
This charming landscape presents a constant variety, every change of 
sky causing a change of aspect. Now the sun is gleaming on hill and 
tree, and wave, and all is brilliant and gay. A cloud dulls the heavens, 
and darkness comes on, and black shadows steal out like robbers from 
gloomy caves, and mists hang on the hill tops. A little distance from 
the house the path leads round an angle of wood, and majestic rocks 
stands before us. Here all is sublime and beautiful, not ideal, such as 
Burke wrote on, but real and substantial. These giant rocks rise up bold 
and frowning, a rugged feature in the quiet scene. Some natural caverns 
seem scooped in their sides, and water lies at the base. These rocks are 
surmounted by the buildings, and the ancient walls of the Fitz-Gerald 
Castle, still crown the top. Fine pasture lands stretch from the base, and 
lowing herds of cattle, and flocks of fleecy sheep, and sportive lambs, 
brouse to their full content. Some slender greyhounds chasing each 
other in rapid circles gave animation to the scene. We gazed, and gra- 
tified our curiosity by a minute survey of the dwelling with its pretty 
garden and ruined castle, the spreading lawn and its fine clumps of trees 
shading the flocks and herds, the massive rocks forming the solid foun- 
dation for the mansion, the wooded slopes descending the meadows, the 
river flowing hurriedly past, and Spencer's oak with its hallowed associa- 
tion of poetry and history, until in the words of Wilson 

Thus gently blended many a human thought, 
With those that peace and solitude supplied ; 
Till in our hearts the musing kindness wrought 
With gradual influence like a flowing tide, 
And for the lovely sound of human voice we sighed. 




THERE are few subjects connected with the history of Ireland, which 
furnish more interesting matter for inquiry than the laws that regu- 
late the descent of the ancient baronies of that kingdom, many of which 
still remain in the possession of the male heirs of the original grantee, 
and are enjoyed by them, while the remainder have become extinct, dor- 
mant or in abeyance. 

This subject has been ably treated by several genealogical writers,* 
more especially by Mr. Lynch, who in his "Feudal Dignities of Ireland," 
and " Case of Prescriptive Baronies/' has with great labour and research 
nearly, if not altogether, determined that none of those ancient baro- 
nies could be inherited by heirs female. 

Yet, however great diversity of opinion still exists on this subject, 
many claims have within the last few years been put forward by the 
representatives of female lines, and several of the most eminent counsel 
of the Irish bar, some of whom now sit on the bench of that kingdom, 
have given decided and strong opinions in favour of such claims. 

The importance of this subject will be known from the fact, that if 
such claims be admitted, the effect will be to place, in all probability, 
nearly fifty different families in the place and precedence of the ancient 
baronies of Ireland, which they represent through female heirs, and con- 
sequently to declare that those peers, who now hold baronies as male 
heirs of the first grantees, have been wrongfully created peers to the ex- 
clusion of female heirs, and enjoy the place and precedence of such 
original baronies through mistake. 

In the following pages we propose taking a review of the subject, and 
to shew the descent of the original baronies of Ireland, adding the ar- 
guments which have been put forward on both sides of the question, as 
to the singular difference^ which exists between the rules which regulate 
the descent of such baronies in England, and the rules which regulate 
those of Ireland, or at least which custom has all but established in the 
latter kingdom. 

It is hardly necessary to remark, that in the former kingdom the 
early baronies, created by writ of summons, have invariably descended 
to the female heir, or if coheirs, it has gone into abeyance amongst them, 
and lain dormant until such time as the crown has been pleased to ter- 
minate the abeyance in favour of some one of the coheirs or their repre- 
sentatives, and thus many of these baronies have been inherited, (as in 
the case of the baronies of de Ros, le de Spencer, &c.f) by many different 
families passing in and out, through heirs and coheirs. 

* Cruise, on Dignities ; Sir John Davis' Reports, Case of County Palatine ; Coke's 
Institutes, County Palatine of Chester. 

f De Ros has passed by a coheir to the Manners, Earls of Rutland, from them to 
the Cecils, Earls of Exeter, back to the Manners, then to the Villiers, Dukes of Buck- 
ingham, then to the sisters and heirs of Manners, 6th Earl of Rutland, when the 



While, on the other hand, in Ireland, baronies created by the same form 
of writ, by the same king, have in every instance, except one (which 
shall be mentioned hereafter,) gone to the heirs male of the original 
grantee, passing over in all but the one instance the claims of heirs female, 
it is the singular anomaly we would here discuss, endeavouring to place 
before the reader the different arguments which have been adduced in 
favour of each rule of descent by those who have examined and treated 
on the points involved in the question. 

It cannot be doubted, that, after the conquest of Ireland by Henry II. 
King of England, all the early feudal dignities and titles introduced 
into the former kingdom were founded on the same laws, customs and 
usages, as those which regulated the honours then existing in England ; 
and it is but reasonable to suppose that those who introduced them 
into Ireland would found them on the same principles as regulated those 
of the kingdom whence they came, and by which many of them held 
dignities there themselves. 

Sir Hugh de Lacy received as a reward for his valour the entire 
county of Meath, which was erected into a palatine honour for him ; 
this enabled him to grant, as lord of that palatine, rights and liberties 
which constituted the grantee a baron of such honour. It is not in- 
tended hereto enter into any discussion as to the nature and constitution of 
these baronies, which were without doubt modelled on the baronies of the 
palatines of England, and gave to the possessor all the rights and privileges 
and powers which belonged to what was then called a barony. There 
is however conclusive evidence that the baronies created of the palatine 
of Meath passed in several different instances to heirs female, and that 
their descendants were thence denominated.* 

The lordship of Meath itself was divided between the two daughters 
and coheirs of Gilbert de Lacy, grandson of Hugh de Lacy, the first 
lord, the elder of whom, Maud, having married Geoffrey de Geneville, 
conveyed to him the lordship of Trim, and a moiety of Meath, and Mar- 
gery, the youngest coheir, conveyed to her husband, the Lord John de 
Verdon, the remaining moiety. There is also equally satisfactory evi- 
dence as to the descent of the province of Leinster, the great heritage of 
the De Clares, which came to the Marshals, by marriage with Isabel de 
Clare, the heiress of Richard Strongbow, and which great inheritance 
was finally divided amongst her daughters and coheirs on the decease 

abeyance was terminated in favour of Charlotte Walsingham, wife of Lord Henry Fitz- 
gerald, in whose descendants it now remains. 

The barony of Le de Spencer, passed by a female line to the Beauchamps, Earls of 
Worcester, thence to the Nevilles, thence to the Fanes, Earls of Westmoreland, then 
to the Dashwoods, to the Pauls, and now exists in the Stapyltons. 

* Colmolyn passed from the Fitz Leons, to the Genevilles, and Simon de Geneville 
was denominated Lord Colmolyn, and thence to the Cusacks, the death of one of whom 
is entered on the Roll of the Mortelege of Kells. " Dom. John La Culmolyn, 1370. 

Delvin, held by the Nugents, went to the Fitz Johns, and back again to the Nugems, 
through female heirs. Killcen went from the Cusacks to the Tuites, back again to 
the Cusacks, and then to the Plunkets. These two latter baronies having been since 
that date in the Nugent and PJunket families, it has become a question how far the 
present peerages were inherited by the present Lords of Delvin and Killeen, or whether 
they are new creations wrongly placed in the precedence of the old baronies, which is 
the point we are now treating of, and the descent of which will be more fully ex- 
plained hereafter. 

L 2 


of their brothers, without issue, a portion of which was inherited by the 
Fitzgeralds, and constituted the barony of Ophaley or Offtdey, still held 
by their descendants. 

Thus then it appears that the ancient feudal baronies of Ireland fol- 
lowed the same rules of descent as similar honours in England, for at 
least the first two centuries after the conquest of that kingdom ; when 
therefore we find at a later period the descendants of those very persons, 
who themselves inherited from heirs female, summoned by the title of the 
barony thus inherited, in the usual form of a writ of summons, and 
afterwards this barony not passing in the natural course of descent to 
heirs female, but to the inheritor of the estate as heirs male, we can 
only come to the conclusion, that such barony was either one of tenure, 
or that the heirs female were wrongly disposessed, or that some remarkable 
alteration occurred at a later period which altered the usual course of 
descent in Ireland, making it different from that of England. In exa- 
mining these three points, and describing the singular anomaly which 
exists, it will be necessary first therefore to trace the origin of a writ of 
summons to parliament in Ireland. 

To the parliament held in 1295, only twenty-nine persons were sum- 
moned ; while to that held in 1309 at Kilkenny, eighty-seven were sum- 
moned, a very large increase in so few years ; and the only account of 
which we have is given by Spenser, in his view of Ireland, who also 
alludes to the introduction of peerages by writ. The passage alluded is 
as follows : 

"Eudoxius. You say well, for by means of freeholders their number 
hereby will be greatly augmented ; but how shall it pass in the higher 
house, which still must consist of all Irish ?" 

" Ireeneus. Marry that also may be redressed by ensamples of that 
which I have heard was done in like case by King Edward the Third, 
(second) as I remember, who being greatly bearded and crossed by the 
Lords of the Clergy, they being then by reason of the Lord Abbots and 
others too many, and too strong for him, so that he could not for their 
frowardness order and reform things as he desired, was advised to direct 
out his writs to certaine gentlemen of the best ability and trust, entitling 
them barons in the next parliament, by which means he had so many 
barons in his parliament as were able to weigh down the clergy and 

.\ /_. D O*' 

their friends. 

All statutes which were enacted in England, were immediately certified 
in Ireland, and became law there; and there is no doubt that at a very 
early period after the settlement of the constitution of England and the di- 
vision of the Great Council of the nation into two houses, the same change 
was made in Ireland, and, as would appear from the above extract, the ba- 
rons were summoned in the same manner as in England. The following 
writ to the celebrated parliament of Kilkenny in 1309, will shew 
the form used. It is also to be remarked that those writs were in many 
instances directed to the different barons, not by the names of their 
estates, but by their surnames, and those barons who did not attend 
were fined for non-attendance according to the usual custom, thus 
showing that in every particular the custom which regulated the parlia- 
mentary assemblies of England prevailed in Ireland, each holder of cer- 
tain lands being liable to be summoned to the council of the king. 

"Rex. A. B. Salutem. Sciatis super quibusdam arduis negotiis 


noset statum terre nostri contingentihus vobiscum hahere. Volumus 
tractatum specialem vobis mandamus quod scitis in propria persona, ves- 
tra apud Kilkeniam, die lune in octavis purificationis beato Marie, nd trac- 
tandum et parliamentandum cum justicinrio nostro. Hibernie et aliis 
de concilio (nostro) et cum ceteris proceribus et magnetibus terre nostre 
super eisdem negotiis. Et Hoc nullatentis omittatis in fide que nobis 
tenemini. Et habeas ibi hoc breve. Teste Johanne Wogan, Justic, etc., 
apud Dublin viii. die Januarii, Anno Regni nostri tertio."* 

It will not be necessary here to enter into the question, of whether 
the baronies followed the course of tenure ? The question we consider is, 
whether the exclusion of female heirs was wrongful, or whether the male 
heirs were justly placed in place and precedence of the original summons 
to parliament? If the latter be correct, it must wholly rest on the ground 
that the laws of Ireland are different from those of England, and that 
the common law of the former differs from that of the latter, and thus 
a different derivation is given to the descent of the peerage of that 

It will be well, before entering further into the question, to deduce the 
descent of two or three of those original baronies, showing where and how 
the heirs female have been excluded; and the heirs male placed and 
summoned in the original place and precedence of the barony. 
The most remarkable descents are to be found in the baronies of 

Slane ; held by the Flemmings. 

Howth j by the St. Lawrences. 

Gormanstoun ; by the Prestons. 

Killeen ; by the Plunkets. 

Kinsale ; by the Courcys. 

Ophaley ; by the Fitzgeralds. 

Athenry j by the Berminghams. 

Delvin j by the Nugents. 

Dunsany ; by the Plunkets. 

Le Poer ; by the Poers. 

The last barony in the above list is the exception before allwled to as 
furnishing the only instance of a barony of Ireland being inherited ac- 
cording to the laws of England, and given to a female heir. 

Nicholas Le Poer was summoned to parliament as a baron in Novem- 
ber 1375, by the name and title of Baron Le Poer ; this barony was thus 
created by writ, which is still preserved in the Record office of Ireland. 
From him the barony descended uninterruptedly in the male line to 
Richard Le Poer, who was in 1673, created Viscount Decies and Earl of 

James Le Poer became third Earl on the decease of his brother John 
second Earl. He left at his death in 1704, an only daughter and heiress 
Catherine Le Poer, who claimed as of right the ancient barony created 
by writ, and her claim having been submitted to the Irish House of Lords, 
was admitted by their lordships, and the ancient barony is now enjoyed 
by her descendant, the present Marquess of Waterford, who is Baron 
Le Poer, with the original place and precedence of the original barony 
created 23rd November, 1375. 

Here then we have a solemn decision of the House of Peers, to the 

* Sir John Wogan was at this date Lord Justice of Ireland Patt. Roll. Hib. 1093. 


effect that the peerage law of Ireland is the same as that of England. 
Yet notwithstanding this decision the question is still apparently unde- 
termined, no other decision having been come to by the House of Lords. 
Although several cases have of late years been submitted to it by claimants 
through heirs female, that such is also the opinion of the most eminent 
barristers of Ireland, will be seen from the following answers to queries 
submitted to them, and which may be shortly stated in substance as 

"The common law of Ireland as contradistinguished from the statute 
law, was and is exactly the same as the common law of England, as 
well touching the descent of peerages as all other subjects ; it is not 
possible to maintain that any peerage Irish or English can, except by 
Act of Parliament, be regulated by a course of descent opposed to the 
course prescribed by the common law of both countries. A peerage 
created by letters patent will follow the course of descent presented in 
that patent. A peerage by writ will descend to the heirs lineal, male and 
female, of the person first entitled. A barony by tenure or as it is some- 
times called by prescription, will follow the descent of the tenure when such 
exists j but this case may be put out of view as a species of dignity now 
quite out of use, save in afew special cases, and quite inapplicable to thepre- 
sent question. No custom or prescription can prove the control, or affect 
the common law course of descent of a peerage. The persons summoned 
to the parliament of Kilkenny in the year 1309, by writ of summons, be- 
came in consequence of such writs barons, and these baronies were inhe- 
ritable by heirs male and female. 

If the above opinion is correct, all those baronies which were created 
by the writs of summons in 1309, must, if not extinct, be in abeyance. 
None of the baronies, which now exist in the male heirs of the 
present day as representatives of their ancestors who were summoned to 
that parliament, have descended without the intervention of female heirs 
and coheirs. In deducing the descent of the several baronies which 
still exist or have been claimed, we will commence with the barony of 
Slane, which perhaps furnishes as numerous instances as any other of the 
intervention of coheirs, and the peerage passing over them, reverting to 
the heirs male. This claim has been several times before the House of 
Lords, a petition having been presented by Mr. Bryan, who claims to be, 
and is, without doubt, the representative of one of the coheirs of the last 
baron of Slane ; a claim has likewise been made by Mr. James Fleming 
as heir male. The House of Lords decided against the claim of Mr. 
Bryan in 1835. 

Baldwin le Fleming, lord of the manor of Slane, in the lordship of 
Meath, was one of the palatine barons of that lordship. He was sum- 
moned to the parliament of Kilkenny by writ, in 1309, not by the title 
of Slane, but as Lord le Fleming. From him descended, 

Christopher Fleming, fifth Lord le Fleming. He sat in parliament 29th 
Henry VI, but died without issue, when his sisters became his coheirs, 
namely : 

Anne Fleming, the wife of Walter Dillon, Esq. 
Annia Fleming, the wife of John Bellew. 

Here then we had the first intervention of coheirs in the Slane peerage, 
and the first interruption to the lineal male-descent of that peerage on the 
death of Christopher, the fifth lord. David Fleming, son of the fourth 


Lord le Fleming, inherited the manor of Slane (which was held in fee 
tail of the heirs of Theobobald de Verdon, as of the manor of Duleek, 
having come to that family, through one of the heirs of the Lacy's,) as 
heir male to his nephew Christopher. He was summoned to parliament 
as Lord le Fleming with the precedence of the old barony, and sat in 
parliament 1462. An act of parliament having passed to settle his pre- 
cedence, he died in 1463, and on his death his son Thomas became his 
heir, but he dying young, his three sisters became his coheirs while 
the manor of {Slane passed to his distant heir at law. Pipe Roll. 

James Fleming, Knt., son and heir of William Fleming, of New- 
castle, descended from the third Lord le Fleming, and his wife, Elizabeth 
Preston, which James, succeeding to the manor of Slane, was summoned 
to parliament 12th Edward IV, he signed a representation to Richard 
III from the Irish parliament, as James Fleming, Baron of Slane. 

His grandson, James Fleming, third Lord Slane, sat in parliament 
during the reign of Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth, but on his death 
without issue, the manor of Slane went to the heir male, and his 
sisters became his coheirs. 

Catherine Fleming, the wife of Sir Christopher Barnwell, of Cricks 
town ; and Elenor. 

Thomas Fleming, of Stephens town, became heir male on the death 
of his kinsman, and succeeded to the estates -, he was summoned to 
parliament as Barun Slane, 1585, and sat in 1587. He died, leaving 
issue two daughters his coheirs : Catherine, the wife of Pierce Butler of 
Old Abbey, co. Kilkenny ; and Ellenor, who married William Flem- 
ing of Depatrick, who became heir male, and inherited the ancient 
manor of Slane. From him it passed to his son Christopher, who was 
summoned and sat in parliament 1613-15. The deceased Christopher 
became last Baron of Slane, and on his death in 1728 his sisters 
became his coheirs : Mary, wife of Richard Fleming, of Stahalmock ; 
and Alice, wife of Sir George Byrne, Bart. The former of whom is 
represented by the Lord Dunsany, and the latter by George Bryan, 
Esq., who claimed without success the barony in 1835. 




, to. 

.... Rokeby's turrets high 
Were northward in the dawning seen 
To rear them o'er the thicket green. 

THE ancient manor of Rokeby is classic ground. The poetic genius of 
Scott has thrown a halo of imperishable celebrity around its romantic 
beauties, and imparted a national interest to its history. With extreme 
accuracy of observation and felicity of expression the bard describes the 
passage through the glen : 

"A stern and lone, yet lovely road, 
As e'er the foot of minstrel trode.'* 

And few can contemplate " Egliston's grey ruins," or " Rokeby's turrets 

high," without feeling that the charm of poetry hangs over them. At the 

period of the Conquest, all the territory abutting on the Tees, at its southern 

border, was granted to Alan, Earl of Rretagne, and formed his English 

Earldom of Richmond. These broad lands were partitioned among the 

junior members of his family and his followers; and in the distribution 

Rokeby became part of the possessions of the Fitzalans, a northern baronial 

house, whose chief seat was at Bedale. But their interest at Rokeby was 

scarcely more than nominal, for beneath them was a subinfeudation in 

favour of a family, which, residing on the lands of Rokeby, was usually de- 

scribed as " de Rokeby," and eventually assumed that name as a personal 

appellation, tradition asserting that its ancestors had been there seated 

in Saxon times. The first honourable occurrence of the Rokebys in 

public affairs, is in the reign of Edward III., when Thomas de Rokeby ren- 

dered the name one of historic distinction. " In the first year of Edward III.," 

says Froissart, " the Scots, under the command of the Earl of Moray, and 

Sir James Douglas, ravaged the country as far as Newcastle ; Edward was 

in those parts with a more powerful army, and an engagement was expected 

and wished for, when the Scotch army suddenly disappeared, and no infor- 

mation could be gained respecting the route they had taken. The young 

king caused it to be proclaimed throughout the host, that whoever should 

bring certain intelligence where the Scotch army was should have one 

hundred pounds a year in land, and be made a knight by the king himself : 

immediately fifteen or sixteen knights and esquires passed the river with 

much danger, ascended the mountains, and then separated, each taking a 

different route. On the the fourth day, Rokeby, who was one of them, gave 

the king exact information where the Scots lay." " This," says Hunter, 

the learned historian of South Yorkshire, " is not a legendary story, in- 

vented by some family annalist, or doating chronicler of public affairs, the 

veracity of the narrative being here supported by the most authentic records 

of the realm ; and it is a gratifying fact that we are so often enabled to 

prove circumstances in our old chronicles, which, on a first view, have an 

ROKEBY. 136 

air of romance and fable, by fiscal documents, wherein, least of all, any- 
thing imaginary is to be found." In the Patent Rolls, 1 Edward III., m. 
7, is a grant to Thomas de Rokeby, of 100, to be taken annually from the 
Exchequer till 100 lands shall be provided for him, in which the service 
is described nearly as it is related by Froissart ; and in the same rolls, 5 
Edward III., m. 7, is a grant to him in fee of the manor of Pawlinesgray, 
in Kent, with lands in the north which had lately belonged to Michael 
and Andrew de Harcle, in release of his 100 annuity from the Ex- 
chequer. Sir Thomas Rokeby subsequently held commands against the 
Scots, was twice High Sheriff of Yorkshire, and became (12 and 13 Ed- 
ward III.) Governor of the Castles of Berwick, Edinburgh, and Stirling. 
In 1346, he pre-eminently distinguished himself at the battle of Neville's 
Cross, and was one of the few magnates present at that engagement to whom 
the letter of thanks was addressed, of which a copy is to be found in the 
Fcedera. In 1 349, he went to Ireland as Lord Justice, and held that ap~ 
pointment until 1355, when Maurice Fitz Thomas, Earl of Desmond, suc- 
ceeded him. The administration of Sir Thomas Rokeby in Ireland, is 
famous for the attempt he made to abolish the custom of coigne and livery, a 
species of arbitrary purveyance for the persons in authority there ; and a 
tradition has been handed down, attested by Holinshed, that being once 
censured for using wooden dishes and cups, as not befitting his degree, 
Sir Thomas replied, that he would rather drink out of such cups, and pay 
gold and silver, than drink out of gold and silver and make wooden pay- 
ments. In the latter transaction of his life, Sir Thomas appears with the 
addition " The Uncle" to his name, and another Sir Thomas Rokeby occurs, 
styled " the Nephew.'* He seems to have participated in the triumph of 
Neville's Cross, and to have accompanied the elder Rokeby to Ireland. A 
third Sir Thomas Rokeby was High Sheriff of Yorkshire, 8 Henry IV., and 
during his year of office, the Earl of Northumberland made his last attempt 
to dethrone King Henry; Sir Thomas collecting the posse comitatus, met 
the Earl at Bramham Moore, and a conflict ensued, in which Northumber- 
land and the Lord Bardolph were slain. The next Rokeby s distinguished 
in state affairs were WILLIAM ROKEBY, Lord Chancellor of Ireland, arid 
Archbishop of Dublin, who died in 1521, and Sir Richard Rokeby, his 
younger brother, Comptroller to Cardinal Wolsey. The archbishop was 
interred in a sepulchral chapel built by himself at Sandal Parva, in York- 
shire, and this tomb still remains. While this eminent churchman was run- 
ning the race of high preferment, the eldest branch of the family remained 
quietly on the hereditary patrimony of Rokeby and Mortham. In the reign 
of Henry VII. the head of the house was another Sir THOMAS ROKEBY, 
who had three sons ; the two younger were the ancestors of families of the 
name, resident at Marske and Staningford. 

Ralph Rokeby, Esq., the eldest son, who succeeded to Rokeby and Mor- 
thanr, was living in the reigns of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. The era 
of the "jargon" of "the Felon Sow," which may be seen in the notes to 
the poem of Rokeby, refers to the time of this Ralph. Sir Walter Scott 
deems " the Hunting of the Felon Sow of Rokeby by the Friars of Richmond," 
one of the very best of the mock romances of the ancient minstrels, and 
much commends its comic humour. " Ralph Rokeby, who (for the jest's 
sake apparently) bestowed the untractable animal on the convent of Rich- 
mond, seems," says the poet, "to have flourished in the time of Henry VII., 
which, since we know not the date of Friar Theobald's wardenship, to 
which the ballad refers us, may indicate that of the composition itself. 


Mortham is mentioned as being the facetious Baron's place of residence ; 
and the Mistress Rokeby of the romance, who so charitably refreshed the 
sow, after she had discomfited Friar Middleton and his auxiliaries, was 
daughter and coheir of Danby of Yafforth." By this -lady, Ralph Rokeby 
had four sons, THOMAS, his heir j John, D.C.L. a learned civilian; Richard, 
a soldier, under Lord Scrope of Boltori, whose standard he is said to have 
borne at FJodden ; and Ralph of Skiers, an eminent lawyer, raised to the 
coif 6 Edward VI. The eldest son, THOMAS ROKEBY, Esq. of Mortham, 
described " as a plain man as might be, whose words came always from his 
heart, without faining, a trusty friend, a forward gentleman in the field, and 
a great housekeeper," was father, by his wife, a daughter of Robert Consta- 
ble of Cliff, in Yorkshire, of four sons : CHRISTOPHER, his heir; Ralph, 
one of the Masters of Requests to Queen Elizabeth ; Thomas, ancestor of 
the Rokebys of Skiers, extinct baronets, and of the Rokebys of Arthing- 
worth, co. Northampton, now represented by the Rev. HENRY RALPH 
ROKEBY; and Anthony. Of these sons, the eldest, CHRISTOPHER 
ROKEBY, Esq., married Margaret, daughter of Sir Roger Lascelles of 
Brackenburgh, and had a son and successor, JOHN ROKEBY, Esq. of Mortham, 
who appears, by the visitation of Yorkshire, 1584, to have been then in pri- 
son in the Fleet, " religionis causa." He wedded a daughter of the ancient 
family of Thweng, and was succeeded by his son, who bore the favourite 
family name of THOMAS, and was knighted. Of his descendants little more 
than their names are recorded. It would, otherwise, have been gratifying 
to have known something of the personal habits and actions of those in 
whose time the chief line of the ancient family of Rokeby fell to decay, and 
especially of Sir Thomas Rokeby himself, whose necessities must have been 
great (it may be presumed) when he disposed of the domain at ROKEBY, in 
1610. The purchaser was WILLIAM ROBINSON. Esq., an opulent merchant 
of the city of London, who paid a composition fine for declining the honour 
of knighthood, at the coronation of Charles I. His son and heir apparent, 
Thomas Robinson, Esq. of Gray's Inn, Barrister- at- Law, exchanged the 
long robe for the broad sword, at the breaking out of the civil war, and was 
slain near Leeds, when a colonel in the service of the parliament. By 
Frances, his wife, daughter of Leonard Smelt, Esq., he left two sons : 
WILLIAM, his heir ; and Leonard, (Sir) Chamberlain of the city of London, 
ancestor of the Robinsons, of Edgely, co. York. The elder, WILLIAM ROBIN- 
SON, Esq., succeeded to the lovely demesne of Rokeby, at the decease of hi? 
grandfather, and resided there in high repute, so esteemed for his long ser- 
vices on the magisterial bench as to be styled, par excellence, " the justice." 
He lived to a great age, anddied universally lamented. A monumental stone, 
with an elegant inscription in Rokeby church, marks the spot where he lies 
interred. His grandson Sir THOMAS ROBINSON, Bart, who possessed conside- 
rable architectural ta&te, rebuilt the mansion of Rokeby, erected a mausoleum, 
and enclosed the park, which he adorned with extensive plantations. In 
commemoration of these improvements, two marble tables, fixed in the two 
stone piers, were placed at each side of the entrance into the park from 
Greta Bridge. 

That on the right with the following inscription : 


Quos intus cernes, 
Omnigenarum fere arborum sylvestrium 


Miliarii spacio usque ad clomura de Rookby, 
Flexibus quasi serpentinis extensos, 

ROKEBY. 137 

Jam florentes ; 
Et (faxit Deus) seris nepotibus umbram fractures 

Anno Dom. 1730, consevit 
Thomas Robinson, Baronettus 

Et haec, 

Ne forte poster! nescerent, 

Marmori incidenda commisit 

Anno 1737. 

That on the left, with the following lines : 

Murum hunc 

Qui inclusum vivarium circundat, 

A latere fluminis Gretae occidental! porrectum 

Anno Dom. 1723 inchoavit 

Annoque 1730, absolvit 

Thomas Robinson 

Suae gentis 

(A Scoti olim montanis oriundse 

Inde ad Kendall, in Westmoria, migrantis 

E t hie demum considentis) 

Baronettus primus 

Sextusquo hujusce domus de Rookby 


Sir Thomas married twice, but died s.p. in 1777, when the baronetcy 
and estates devolved on his brother William, at whose decease unm. in 1785, 
they passed to his brother the Most Rev. Richard Robinson, Archbishop of 
Armagh and Lord Almoner, a prelate of great influence and personal consi- 
deration, who, on being elevated to the peerage in 1777, had assumed his 
title from the lands of which we are now treating. His Grace died unm. 1794, 
when the Barony of Rokeby devolved, by a special limitation in the patent, 
on his kinsman Matthew Robinson, Esq. of Edgeley, whose grand nephew 
Henry is the present Lord Rokeby. The estate, which gave name to the 
title, was eventually purchased from the Robinsons by the father of the late 
JOHN B. S. MORRITT, Esq. the friend and correspondent of Sir Walter 
Scott ; and is now held by Mr. Morritt's son and successor. 

Rokeby and Mortham, which formed the patrimony of the Rokeby's, 
were situated, the former, on the left bank of Greta, the latter on the right, 
about half-a-mile nearer to the junction with the Tees. The river runs with 
very great rapidity over a bed of solid rock, broken 'by many shelving des- 
cents, down which the stream dashes with great noise and impetuosity, vin- 
dicating its etymology, which has been derived from the Gothic " Gridan," 
"to clamour." The banks partake of the same wild and romantic character, 
being chiefly lofty cliffs of limestone rock, whose grey colour contrasts ad- 
mirably with the various trees and shrubs which find root among their cre- 
vices, as well as with the hue of the ivy, which clings round them in profu- 
sion, and hangs down from their projections in long sweeping tendrils. At 
other points the rocks give place to precipitous banks of earth, bearing large 
trees intermixed with cope wood. In one spot the dell, which is everywhere 
very narrow, widens for a space to leave room for a dark grove of yew trees, 
intermixed here and there with aged pines of uncommon size. Directly op- 
posite to this sombre thicket, the cliff's on the other side of the Greta are 
tall, white and fringed with all kinds of deciduous shrubs. The whole 
scenery of this spot is so much adapted to the ideas of superstition, that it 
has acquired the name of Blockula, from the place where the Swedish 
witches were supposed to hold their sabbath. The dell, however, has super- 
stitions of its own growth, for it is supposed to be haunted by a female 


spectre, called the Dobie of Mortham. The cause assigned for her appear- 
ance is a lady's having been whilom murdered in the wood, in evidence 
of which her blood is shewn upon the stairs of the old tower at Mortham ; 
but whether she was slain by a jealous husband, or by savage banditti, or 
by an uncle who coveted her estate, or by a rejected lover, are points upon 
which the traditions of Rokeby do not enable us to decide. 

The castle of Mortham which Leland terms " Mr. Rokeby's Place, in 
ripa citer, scant a quarter of a mile from Greta Bridge, and not a quarter of 
a mile beneath the trees," is a picturesque tower, surrounded by buildings of 
different ages, now converted into a farm house and offices. The battle- 
ments of the tower itself are singularly elegant, the architect having broken 
them at regular intervals into different heights : while those at the corners 
of the tower project into octangular turrets. They are also from space to 
space, covered with stones laid across them, as in modern embrasures, the 
whole forming an uncommon and beautiful effect. The surrounding build- 
ings are of less happy form, being pointed into high and steep roofs. A wall 
with embrasures, encloses the southern front, where a low portal arch affords 
an entry to what was the Castle court. At some distance is most happily 
placed, between the stems of two magnificent elms, 

a massive monument, 

Carved o'er in ancient Gothic wise, 
With many a scutcheon and device. 

It is said to have been brought from the ruins of Eglistone Priory, and 
from the armoury with which it is richly carved, appears to have been a tomb 
of the Fitz- Hughs. 

The situation of Mortham, is eminently beautiful, occupying a high bank, 
at the bottom of which the Greta winds out of the dark, narrow and roman- 
tic dell, and flows onward through a more open valley to meet the Tees, 
about a quarter of a mile from the castle. Mortham is surrounded by old 
trees, happily and widely grouped with Mr. Morritt's plantations. 

Sir Walter Scott makes the following pleasing allusion to the romantic 
scenery of Mortham. 

* * * * # # 

" And when he issued from the wood, 
Before the gate of Mortham stood. 
'Twas a fair scene ! the sunbeam lay 
On battled tower and portal gray : 
And from the grassy slope he sees 
The Greta flow to meet the Tees ; 
Where, issuing from her darksome bed, 
She caught the morning's eastern red, 
And through the softening vale below 
Roll'd her bright waves, in rosy glow, 
All blushing to her bridal bed, 
Like some shy maid in convent bred ; 
While linnet, lark and blackbird gay 
Sing forth her nuptial roundelay." * 

OTrtttle, co. <S3t]r. 

AMONG the remaining examples of the customs of our forefathers there are 
perhaps none which are more interesting, or under the so called legal refor- 
mations, more rapidly disappearing than the feudal tenures, curious customs 
and arbitrary jurisdiction by which lands were held, either of the crown, or 

WHITTLE. 1 39 

of the great and powerful barons, each of whom ruled with a tyrant's 
power over the inhabitants of his lordship, exacting on a reduced scale all 
the homage of life and limb, which he in turn was bound to render to his 
sovereign. There are still lands in England retaining many of these feudal 
laws and customs, and of these the Manor of Writtle in Essex, which gives 
the title to the noble family of Petre, is a remarkable specimen. 

Writtle, the largest and one of the finest parishes in Essex, is considered 
to be the site of the Roman station of Jasoromagus, named in the Itinerary 
of Antoninous. In the reign of Edward the Confessor, it formed part of 
tiie possessions of Earl Harold, who succeeded the Confessor in the govern- 
ment of the kingdom, and after the battle of Hastings, Writtle fell into the 
grasp of the Conqueror, who at the general survey, held it in demesne as 
the king's fee we may suppose it to have been a favourite hunting resort 
of the succeeding monarchs, for in 1211, King John erected a palace there 
opposite to what is now called the Lordship Farm, but the moat is the only 
vestige of its magnificence. At a later period of his reign, John granted 
the manor and park of Writtle, in fee farm with free warren to one of the 
family of Nova Villa, or Neville. After various subsequent changes it re- 
turned into the hands of the Nevilles, and in the 14th year of King Henry 
III. it was held by Ralph Neville, Bishop of Chichester, the same who 
built a palace in Holborn as a tow r n residence for the bishops of his see, 
when they visited London. This palace becoming the property of Henry 
Lacey, Earl of Lincoln, has ever since been called Lincoln Inn. Henry 
subsequently granted the Manor of Writtle for exchange of lands in the 
county of Chester, to Isabella de Brugs or Braes, sister of the Earl of Ches- 
ter, who was pcisoned by his wife, a Welsh heiress, and her son Robert did 
homage for it, serving in Wales for one knight's fee. The grandson of this 
Robert, being Earl of Carrick, so well known as the "Bruce of Bannock- 
burn," having been crowned King of Scotland, at Scone, 25 March, 1305, 
was forthwith deprived of all his English possessions by Edward I. 
By an inquisition taken in the 5th year of Edward III., it was found that 
Richard de Walleyes and Eleanora, his wife, did hold the third part of the 
manor of Writtle, at the time of the death of the said Alianora, as of her 
dower, arid it was further found that King Edward, father of Edward III., 
did grant to Humphrey de Bohun, sometime Earl of Hereford and 
Essex, and to Elizabeth, his wife, the manors of Writtle and Horsefrith, 
adjoining, and that of John de Bohun, then Earl of Hereford and Essex, 
son and heir of the aforesaid held the manors of Writtle and Horsfrith, for 
ever of the king in capite by the service of one knight's fee. John dying 
without issue was succeeded by his brother, Humphrey, who obtained the 
royal permission to embattle and fortify his house at Writtle, additions par- 
ticularly necessary to the comfort and security of a feudal baron in those 
times. Anne, the grand-daughter and heiress of Humphrey de Bohun, was 
contracted whilst in tender years to Thomas, Earl of Stafford, who dying in 
1 392, she by virtue of the king's special licence took hisnext surviving brother 
and heir, Edmund, Earl of Stafford, for a husband ; he was slain at the battle 
of Shrewsbury, in 1403, and their son Humphrey, who in addition to all 
his other titles had been created Duke of Buckingham, was, at the time of 
his death (being slain at the battle of Northampton, 1460,) found possessed 
of the manor of Writtle and Boyton. Writtle continued to be among the 
possessions of this family, until the death of Edward Stafford, the third and 
last duke, who for some frivolous cause of offence given at a court banquet, 
having fallen under the displeasure of the then all-powerful favourite Cardinal 


Wolsey, was through his malice and revenge, beheaded on Tower hill, 1 7 May, 
1521 , whereupon all his estates being forfeited, the manor of Writtle once more 
became the property of the crown. The manor of Writtle was once more des- 
tined to change hands, Sir William Petre, one of the most successful statesman 
and singular characters of *the remarkable times in which he lived, came 
into notice of Henry VIII. soon after the disgrace and death of Cardinal 
Wolsey. Sir William Petre having been secretary during three reigns, 
(notwithstanding the different political and religious opinions which pre- 
vailed during those reigns,) in the first year of the reign of Mary, he obtained 
possession of the manor and park of Writtle. By this deed of grant, re- 
markable from the fact that in it Queen Mary among her titles takes that 
of Supreme Head of the Church of England and Ireland, she gives to Sir 
William Petre, Knt. and his descendants in exchange for certain lands in 
Somersetshire, and in consideration of his good, true, faithful and acceptable 
services, to her therefore manifoldly rendered, and of her special grace in 
consequence, all that the lordship and manor of Writtle, and those two parks 
of Writtle and Horsfrith, in the county of Essex, with all, and singular their 
rights, members and appurtenances, and all the right she herself possessed, 
over all lands, fisheries, &c. within the said manors, the goods and chattels 
of all felons and fugitives, the rights of wardship and marriage, each of which 
appears to have been productive of much emolument, even after the coarse 
customs of the early feudal barons had been laid aside, also all the perqui- 
sites and profit?, in which are included the male and female deer in the 
parks, and the male and female villeins or peasants with all their belongings, 
in short absolute power over the inhabitants of the district, whether man or 
beast. Together with all the feudal rights, customs, and appurtenances, 
some of which customs are of a very singular description, and scarcely to 
be understood at the present day, but which render the lord of the manor 
even now a very formidable person in his own territory. He appoints his 
own coroner for the peculiar and exempt jurisdiction of Writtle, and by his 
steward, holds baronial courts within the manor, where all the singular 
customs peculiar to ancient demesne, as Writtle is still styled, are rigorously 
enforced; he there imposes fines, and on the death of a tenant or the alienation 
of a tenant's property, he takes possession as a heriot of the best living 
beast. At these courts wills can be proved without the interference of the 
see of Canterbury, an instance of which occurred so lately as 1810. It 
would perhaps be advantageous if the lord could still, as formerly exercise 
some controul over the morals of the vassals, for at a court held in the 
7th Henry VI. a man was severely fined for slandering his neighbour, and 
the curate of the parish being convicted of immoral conduct, was not only 
amerced himself in the then considerable sum of 33s. 4d., but the vicar also 
had to pay a fine, for concealing the fault. It is the custom of the manor, 
that on the death of a tenant, if his property be not claimed at the next 
court, it may be seized into the lord's hands ; if a tenant leaving no son, die 
intestate, his property devolves solely on his eldest daughter, to the ex- 
clusion of the rest. To pass over a certain portion of the manor called 
green-way, all carts, save those of the lords must pay a fine of four pence, this 
is called lefe silver or lefe and lace. Another custom goes by the name of 
stubble silver, it being a certain fine or airsage for every pig ranging in the 
woods, from Michaelmas day to Martinmas, and such as were not duly 
paid for, were at once forfeited to the lord. Various officers were appointed 
to carry out the laws &c. of the manor, and continue to be so every year. 
The bedell we may suppose formerly to have been a person of vast dignity 

EUSTON. 141 

and importance, his very garments partaking of his power, " for at one court 
an unfortunate villain is fined 20 pence for pulling ye coat of ye bedell 
set upon a door for the safe keeping of goods within." He was chosen by 
the tenants. The prefsectus or overseer, was also chosen by the tenants ; 
and there are many instances of recourse being had to severe measures to 
oblige the person so chosen to do his duty gratis. The fugalores or wood- 
wards, had charge of the woods and parks. An officer styled the lord's 
paler collected the pale wheat due as rent from various tenants. The caterer, 
(often alluded to by Chaucer) took charge of the lord's provisions, while the 
wagebread visiting the bakers, was charged to report all those who sold 
bread deficient in weight ; and that all things might be equally good, a dig- 
nitary, bearing the title of the lord's taster of ale, seized all such as forfeit 
which was not in his opinion sound and sufficient in strength. These are 
some of the remarkable remaining customs of the feudal tenure of Writtle, 
which has remained in the possession of Sir William Petre's descendants, to 
the present day. His son John, was created a Peer by James I. with 
the title of Baron Petre, of Writtle. 

to. J^uffotfc. 

" Here noble Grafton spreads his rich domains, 
Round Euston's water' d vale, and sloping plains, 
Here woods and groves in solemn grandeur rise, 
Here the kite brooding unmolested flies ; 
The woodcock and the painted pheasant race, 
And sculking foxes, destined for the chase." 

ROBERT Bloomfield, the rustic bard of Suffolk, was born in the vicinity of 
" Grafton's rich domain;" and his muse loved to commemorate the beauties 
of those favoured scenes, wherein his mind first became stored with that 
abundance of rural imagery, which, feeding his natural passion for the 
country, was one day to give an irresistible charm to the simple language 
of the untaught peasant. Magical is the power of genius ! The humble 
" Shepherd's boy, he sought no better name," has imparted a poetic as- 
sociation to the princely home of Euston, more attractive than any other 
connected with its history. 

The village of Euston is situated a mile from Fakenham, but the park 
extends nearly to that place. It was formerly the lordship of a family 
bearing the local name, and afterwards descended to SIR HENRY BENNKT, 
who by King Charles II. was made Secretary of State, and created 
Viscount Thetford, and Earl of Arlington. He enjoyed the estate for 
many years, and built the mansion of Euston Hall. In reference to this, 
we find the following remarks of John Evelyn : 

" A stranger preached at Euston church, and fell into a hansome pane- 
gyric on my lord's new building the church, which indeed for its elegance 
and cheerfulness is one of the prettiest country churches in England. My 
lord told me his heart smote him that after he had bestowed so much on 
his magnificent palace there, he should see God's house in the ruine it lay 
in. He has also rebuilt the parsonage-house all of stone, very neat and 

By Isabella of Nassau, his wife, daughter of Lewis, Count of Nassau, the 
earl left an only daughter and heiress, ISABELLA, the wife of Henry Fitzroy, 
second illegitimate son of King Charles II., by the Duchess of Cleveland. 


Immediately after his marriage in 1672, Henry Fitzroy was created by his 
father Earl of Euston, and in three years after made Duke of Grafton. 
His Grace died from the effects of a wound received at the siege of Cork, 
9 Oct. 1690, and was buried at Euston. His son and successor, CHARLES, 
2nd DUKE OF GRAFTON, K.G., Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, inherited, in right 
of his mother, the Earldom of Arlington : he married Henrietta, daughter 
of Charles, Marquess of Worcester, and dying in 1757, was succeeded by 
his grandson, AUGUSTUS HENRY, 3rd DUKE OF GRAFTON, K.G. who filled 
at one time the office of first Lord of the Treasury. His Grace died 14 
March 1811, and was succeeded by his son, GEORGE HENRY, 4th DUKE OF 
GRAFTON. K.G. Lord Lieutenant, Vice Admiral, and Gustos Rotulorum of 
Suffolk. This nobleman died in Sept. 1844, when his honours and estates 
devolved on his son, HENRY, present duke. 

The mansion of Euston is large and commodious, built with red brick, of 
modern date, and without any gaudy decorations within or without. The 
house is almost surrounded with trees of uncommon growth, and the most 
healthy and luxuriant appearance, and near it glides the river Ouse. The 
scenery about the hall and park combines the most delightful assemblage 
of rural objects that can well be imagined, and is justly celebrated by the 
author of the " Farmer's Boy." 

The estate is not less than between thirty and forty miles in circum- 
ference, including a number of villages and hamlets. On an elevated situa- 
tion in the park stands the temple. This elegant structure was designed 
for a banqueting-house, and was built by the celebrated Kent, under the 
auspices of Henry, 3rd Duke of Grafton, who laid the first stone himself in 
1746. It consists of an upper and lower apartment, and is in the Grecian 
style of architecture. It forms an interesting object from many points of 
view in the neighbourhood, and commands a wide range of prospect. 

Bloomfield, in his " Autumn," thus eulogizes Euston and its noble pro- 
prietor : 

" Here smiling Euston boasts her good Fitzroy 
Lord of pure alms, and gifts that wide extend, 
The farmer's patron, and the poor man's friend ; 
Whose mansion glitt'ring with the eastern ray, 
Whose elevated temple points the way 
O'er slopes and lawns, the park's extensive pride, 
To where the victims of the chase reside." 

23rantfon 19arfe ariB ftflanov, to. 

THIS ancient manor and estate appear to have been in the possession of King 
Henry III., by whom, in the thirty-fifth year of his reign, they were granted 
to Hugh Bishop of Ely, and his successors, together with free chase in all 
their demesnes in that part of the country. So, the lands remained until the 
time of ELIZABETH, when they reverted to the crown, in consequence, it is 
presumed, of an exchange by the See for other estates : an inference borne 
out by various records of the periods attesting that during the reign of Eliza- 
beth and her immediate successor, no less than twenty suits were instituted 
connected with the Brandon property, and that in one, a commision issued 
out of the Court of Exchequer, directed to Sir John Heigham, Knt. and 
Robert Peyton, Esq. to enquire into the subject of the controversy and to 
return a certificate of their opinion thereon. The result of this investigation 
was an award in favour of the crown, in which it was declared that the 


manor, with free chase, right and royalties, vested ; and under this re- 
cognition James I., in the third year of his reign, granted the estate 
to his son Prince Charles and his heirs male : we next find Brandon 
in the possession of Lord Villiers, Viscount Purbeck, elder brother 
of the celebrated court favourite George, Duke of Buckingham, and it 
remained with the Wrights, who claimed to be Lord Purbeck's descendants, 
and long sought the family honours, until 1727, when John Wright, alias 
Villiers, who assumed the titles of Viscount Purbeck and Earl of Bucking- 
ham, becoming the associate of gamblers, and dissipating his inheritance, 
sold the lands and manor of Brandon to the trustees of the will of the Lord 
Chief Justice Holt. At length in 1818, Admiral George Wilson, of Red- 
grave, whose mother was the heiress of the Holts, alienated Brandon, with 
the manor, rights and royalties, to the late EDWARD BLISS, Esq., a gentle- 
man of great opulence, and public spirit, who devoting unceasing attention 
to the improvement of his purchase, was enabled to improve the district to a 
most remarkable extent, and to ameliorate, in an equal degree, the condition 
of the poor, by occupying them advantageously for their own interest as 
well as for that of the community at large. Not long after the acquisition 
of Brandon, he commenced planting, and in less than six months covered 
a large portion of the land with no fewer than eight millions of trees, thus 
transforming tracts hitherto wild and sterile into richly wooded plantations 
and productive farms. Mr. Bliss, who was a justice of the peace, and 
served as High Sheriff of Suffolk in 1836, died 2nd April, 1845, possessed 
of immense wealth. Desirous of being buried on his own estate, he had 
erected a spacious mausoleum near the house, embosomed in plantations, 
and there "now repose his mortal remains.' Brandon Park, with its fine 
mansion and the whole of his other property, (subject to some life annuities) 
passed to his nephew Henry Aldridge, Esq., who by sign manual changed 
his name to Bliss, and is the present lord of the manor. 

The following acrostic, addressed to the late Mr. Bliss, on his adornment 
of Brandon, is ascribed to the pen of his early friend, Lord Eldon : 

E-nchanted I view the scene with surprise : 
D-oes not illusion deceive my rapt eyes ? 
W-here are the sands, and where is the warren ? 
A-re not these scenes, to my memory foreign ? 
R-abbits and conies were lords of the soil, 
D-eep sands made the traveller's journey a toil, 
B-ut now the smooth turnpike invites to proceed : 
L-o the warren is changed to a sweet verdant mead ! 
I-nstead of a desert, like Arabic ground 
S-ee a Palace adorns, and forests abound ; 
S-ee Bliss has created a Paradise round. 




[list bn.e : 


';'.''' 'V.'O.'.t.'i 1 '! ';i!.<-i').' ' 

THE publication of Sir Harris Nicolas on this subject belongs to that 
branch of human learning ranged by Lord Bacon under the general 
category of rt Antiquities or remnants of history," and which were 
likened by him to the painting of a wreck (tabula naufragii) which is, 
says he, when industrious persons by an exact and scrupulous diligence 
and observation, out of monuments, names, words, proverbs, traditions, 
private records and evidences, fragments of stories, passages of books 
that concern not story and the like, do save and recover somewhat from 
the deluge of time. In considering the general condition of human know- 
ledge and learning in his day he assigned no deficience to antiquities, 
" because any deficience in them is but their nature." 

Be this however as it may, that which was " antiquities" has here 
become " history" through the zeal and disinterested exertions of the 
learned author j and the judges, parties and witnesses who figured in 
the celebrated case of Scrope and Grosvenor are again before us in all 
the reality of a representment, 

" Lifeless yet lifelike and awful to sight;" 

grim seamed warriors, tried in the wars of " le bon roy Edward tierce 
que Dieu assoile," and companions of the Black Prince, youthful 
knights and esquires, " per poy de temps armez/' royal dukes and mitred 
abbots ! There are 

" Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster 
And Harry Hotspur the all hepraised knight;" 

and on the opposite side in this suit his antipodes, the cool, calculating, 
fantastic, conceited Glendower, 

" The great magician, the damn'd Glendower," 

besides Stanleys, and Breretons, and Courtenays, and Grays, and Cliffords, 
and Talbots, and a host of historical names, and with them one belong- 
ing to the aristocracy of English genius, whose name blazes like a 
beacon in that remote age, 

" The morning star of song, 
Dan Chancer." 

We have them all upon their examinations, princes and earls answering 
"parlafoy de chivalerie," and those of inferior degree upon their oaths. 

Whether we consider the names of the parties whose depositions were 
taken, or of the parties interested, or of the judges in the first or last 
resort, the extraordinary constitution of the tribunal, or the curious 
subject matter of the controversy, there are few of us who will fail to 
find in the perusal of the original record of the case of Scrope and 
Grosvenor and the notes appended a wide field for fruitful meditation. 
Who will grudge to the author his meed of thanks and commendation, 
the just salvage for his rescue of this wreck (once more a trim and 
gallant vessel) from the "deluge of time?" 

The perusal of the case of Scrope and Grosvenor involves a considera- 
tion of the origin, nature and jurisdiction of the once redoubtable tribu- 


nal of the constable and marshal. But to what source shall we refer for 
authentic materials upon this subject? Dr. Plott's treatise on the Curia 
Militaris exists I believe only in its title page and table of contents, the 
records of the court are for the most part destroyed, Sir Robert Cotton's 
collection (however valuable may be the information that it affords) is 
not available but to the laborious student and patient investigator. If we 
turn for incidental notice to our books of reports, meagre indeed is the 
result ; the questions therein raised respecting the tribunal affect merely 
a small branch of its jurisdiction. In this dearth of accessible materials, 
the Cottonian MSS. unconsulted from want of time, we have, as autho- 
rities for the following resume', been compelled to rest contented with 
the case of Lord Rea and Ramsay in our State Trials, with Camden's 
disquisitions On the Office of Earl Marshal, a few manuscript treatises 
in the Inner Temple Library, and with Dr. Duck's remarks upon the 
Curia Militaris contained in the work De Usu et Authoritate Juris Civilis, 
termed by Struvius " non inelegans tractatus," and one of those few 
treatises written by British lawyers to which foreign jurists condescend 
to refer- Dr. Duck's opinions upon this subject may be considered as 
peculiarly valuable, for he was appointed by King Charles I. his advocate 
in the Court of Chivalry (promotor oausarum regiarum), and was counsel 
in the last cause of arms (Lord Reay v. Ramsay) ever brought before that 
dreaded tribunal, and in which two other celebrated antiquaries, original 
members of the Society of Antiquaries (Selden and Cotton) had been 
also consulted. The judges of the Court of Chivalry were the constable 
and marshal, invested with equal authority for the decision of causes, 
although the marshal alone was intrusted with the execution of the 
judgments awarded.* It cannot be affirmed that these offices existed in 
the time of the Anglo-Saxon kings ; on the contrary, rather were they 
introduced by the Norman princes after the example of the Gauls, who, 
anciently in imitation of the Romans, had as far back as the reign of 
Charlemagne their constables and marshals strongly resembling, as 
French writers themselves attest, the magistri equitum and tribuni 
celerum of the Romans. f Be this however as it may, both offices 
were ever regarded in this country as of the most exalted nature. That 
of constable has been filled by sons, brothers or uncles of our kings, 
and finally descended by right of inheritance to the Staffords, dukes of 
Buckingham, by whom it was long held until the hereditary office itself 
was abolished in the reign of Henry VII., at the death and attainder of 
Edward, Duke of Buckingham. The power of the constable was so 
great that it became at last an object of suspicion to the crown itself j 
and when the chief justice was asked by Henry VIII. as to the degree 
of authority possessed by the constable,} he begged to decline the ques- 
tion, affirming that the solution belonged to the law of arms and not to 
the law of England. From that time the office has rarely been granted 
by the sovereigns, and when conferred it has only been for occasional 
purposes, such as coronations or particular trials in which the common 
law provided no adequate remedy. 

The court derived a considerable accession of pomp and dignity from 
the circumstance of the heralds acting as its officers. These were gar- 
ter king at arms (especially charged with the forms and ceremonies con- 

* Coke, 4 Institvile, c. 17. t Duck. 

S 4 Institute, c 17. J Kdw. Rep. Mich. Term. 6 Henry VIII. f. 171. 


nected with the illustrious Order of the Garter), Clarencieux king at arms 
for the south of England, Norroy king at arms for the northern districts, 
and six other inferior heralds or pursuivants. The principal office of the 
heralds was to act as messengers of pence and war, to charge themselves 
with the settlement of the rank, genealogies and arms of our families, 
to marshal the ceremonies attending the coronations of our sovereigns, 
and the proceedings upon duels before the constable and marshal, to 
arrange the funeral rites of deceased nobles and gentlemen upon occa- 
sions of solemnity, besides other duties which devolved upon them by 
virtue of their appointment, they were formed into a college and invested 
with many privileges by the English kings and exercised their functions 
under the authority and jurisdiction of the constable and marshal. 

Proceedings. The authority of the civil law in the court is recognized 
by all our books,* and is styled law of the realm, law of the crown, 
law of the land.f It is also clear that all suits before that tribunal were 
always dealt with by the civil law and the customs of arms, and not by the 
common law of England, and accordingly a sentence of death entailed 
no forfeiture of land or corruption of blood. \ 

But since the constable and marshal had other public affairs of impor- 
tance to attend to, a doctor or other lawyer of experience versed in the im- 
perial jurisprudence was occasionally appointed for life to direct the pro- 
.ceedings; so in the reign of Edward IV.,a learned civilian was made king's 
advocate in the same court. || Dr. Duck held a similar office by patent 
from Charles I. dated the seventh year of his reign. 

All causes proceeded according to the forms prescribed by the civil law, 
i.e. libel, or petition ; the witnesses were privately examined j the pleas, 
replications and other proceedings observed the forms of the same juris- 
prudence, the decrees were in writing, as likewise were the appeaU. 
The dignity and supremacy of the court were such that wherever any one 
excepted to its jurisdiction, the matter was referred to the lords of the 
privy council. Appeals from definitive sentences have for the most part 
been made not to the chancellors, but to the kings themselves, who have 
thereupon generally nominated as delegates the chief nobles of England 
associating with them some doctors of the civil law. All this once and per- 
haps still clearly appears by the records of this Court, preserved in the Royal 
Archives in the Tower of London, which it has been said frequently fur- 
nish readings upon the Roman jurisprudence.^} The court of the con- 
stable and marshal had cognisance of crimes committed in lands out of 
the realm, of contracts made in foreign parts, and of things that pertain 
to war and arms whether within the realm or in foreign parts.** 

1. Of Crimes committed on Lands out of the Realm. Thus where one 
Englishman charged another Englishman with the commission of treason 
out of England, the proceeding was before the constable and rnarshal,ft 

* Fortesc. de Legib. Angl. c. 32 ; Finch in Nomotechn. lib. 4. cap. ; Coke, 1 Inst. 
c. 1 ; sec. 3,; and 4 Inst. c. 74. 

t Mich. Term, 32 Henry VI. f. 3 ; Pasch Term, 37 Henry VI. Tresp. 8. f. 21 ; Kelw. 
Mich. Term, 6 Henry VIII. f. 171 ; Coke, 1 Inst. lib. 1. c. 1, sec. 3 ; and 4 Inst. c. 74. 

J Coke, 4 Inst. c. 17. 

Coke, 4 Inst. c.17. ex par. 2, patent 23 Hen.VI. memb. 20 23. Edw. III. merab. 2. 

II Patent 8 Edward IV. memb. 1 ; Coke, 4 Inst. c. 17. 

fi Duck De Authoritate Juris Civilis, lib. 2, c. 8, part 3, s. 22. 
* Duck De Authoritate Juris Civilis, lib. 2, cap. 8, part 3, s. 15 ; Reeves' History of 
the English Law, 3rd ed. vol. 3, p. 195, 196, vol. 4, p. 303. Stat. 13 Rich. II. stat, 1. c. 2. 

ft Coke 1 Institute, lib. 2, cap. 3, sec. 102 ; 37 Henry VI. f. 3. 


and the proof was by witnesses or (by the ancient customs of this court) 
by the duel. So where one of the king's subjects killed another subject 
in Scotland or elsewhere in foreign parts, neither the courts of common 
law here* nor Parliament itself f had jurisdiction j and accordingly when 
Francis Drake had put one Dourish to death in America in the 25th 
year of Queen Elizabeth, and his brother and next heir claimed justice 
at the hands of the queen, the judges having been consulted on the 
subject advised her majesty that no proceeding could be instituted with 
reference to the offence but before the constable and marshal, J and 
weighty reasons deterring her, the queen refused to appoint a constable, 
and so the charge fell to the ground. But when, during the reign of 
Charles I. A.D. 1632, William Holmes an Englishman had killed with 
his sword William Wise another Englishman in Newfoundland, and the 
widow petitioned Charles I. to be admitted to an appeal of her husband's 
death, the Earl Lindsay was appointed constable for that eole occasion, 
and he and the Lord Arundel, Earl Marshal of England, by a definitive 
sentence promulgated in the Court of Chivalry in April, 16 3S, condemned 
Holmes to death, a fate from which he was only saved by a royal pardon, 
So also where one Englishman inflicted a mortal wound upon another 
Englishman in France whereof the latter afterwards died in this country, 
he could not be tried at common law, but only in the Court of Chivalry. || 
It is true that, as far as treason committed out of the realm was con- 
.cerned, the court ceased to have exclusive jurisdiction by the effect of 
several acts afterwards passed, which rendered that crime cognizable 
also by the Court of King's Bench or Royal Commissioners.^ 

2. Of Contracts made in Foreign Parts. Of these, this court had also 
cognizance. Thus, in the reign of Henry IV., one Pountney impleaded 
one Burney Knight, before the constable and marshal in.respect of a loan 
of 10 made at Bourdeaux in Gascony.** And in the national rolls once 
preserved in the Tower of London numerous instances occurred of judg- 
ments in this court respecting all kinds of civil contracts made abroad, 
especially during the reigns of Edward III., Richard II., Henry IV., Hen- 
ry V. and Henry VI., whilst the English crown held Normandy, Aquitaine, 
Anjou, and other extensive provinces in France.ff Indeed the notion 
prevailed generally amongst us, that the cognizance of contracts made 
abroad belonged of right to this tribunal and that of contracts made 
within the realm to the courts of common law.^ Originally the Court 
of Chivalry must have had exclusive cognizance in the case of such 
foreign contracts. In -the process of time, however, the courts of com- 
mon law contrived to obtain a concurrent jurisdiction by the fiction 
which enabled them to be averred as if made in England. For it has 
long been settled in our courts where one Englishman has taken the 

* Rot. Parl. 3 Henry VI. memb. 38 ; Stamford, pi. Coronas, 65 ; Coke,'] Inst. lib. 2 ; 
cap. 3, sec. 102 ; 4 Inst, c. 17 ; and 2 Inst. ad Magn. Chart, c. 29. 

t Stat. 1 Henry IV. c. 14. 

Coke 1 Inst. lib. 2, cap. 3, sec. 102. 

Duck, De Authoritate Juris Civilis, lib. 2, cap. 8, pars 3, s. 16. 

|| Coke, 1 Inst. lib. 2, cap. 3, s. 102, and lib. 3, cap. 13, sec. 745. 

t St. 26 Henry VIII. c. 13; 35 Henry VIII. c. 2 ; 5 Ed. VI. c. 11 ; Coke, 4 Inst. 
cap. 17. 

** Ter. Mich. 13 Hen. IV. 

tt Coke 1 Inst. lib. 3, cap. 13, sec. 745, 4 Inst. c. 17 ; Selden ad Fortesc, cap. 32, 

tJ Mich. Term, 13 Hen. IV. ; Dalt. 10; Fortesc. de Leg. Angl. c. 32. 


goods of another Englishman or made a contract with him abroad, that 
actions may in either respect be supported in the courts of common 
law here by a suggestion which the opposite party may not deny, that 
the goods were taken or the contracts entered into in some place within 
this kingdom. Just as the testaments of Roman citizens captured by 
hostile nations were supported by the fictions postlimii and of the lex 
Cornelia 3 for when a Roman citizen had become a slave to any hostile 
people he at once lost not merely his freedom but all the rights and 
privileges of a Roman citizen, so that his will previously made would 
have became inoperative, but for the aid of these expedients, for it was 
considered that if he returned to his country his testament might be set 
up by the fiction (postlimii) which supposed him never to have been 
captured or absent from his country, and if on the other hand he died 
a captive, by the fiction that he had died before captured, a Roman 
citizen. J 

The main and essential difference between the English and the civil 
law in this respect being, that the expedients in the former case originated 
with the lawyers, in the latter with the leg'slative authority j and in the 
former, were devised to gain a jurisdiction, in the latter to remedy a de- 
fect in legal principle. 

3. Of Things that pertain to War and Arms whether within the Realm or 
in Foreign Parts. These constituted another branch of the jurisdiction 
of the constable and marshal, who were said to have the sole cognizance 
of all controversies arising out of war or arms.* Where an alien 
entered England and levied war upon our sovereign he could not for- 
merly be proceeded against or punished by the law of England any- 
where but in the Court of Chivalry,t wherefore the constable and 
marshal were styled keepers of the peace of the realm. 

And as order is one of the first principles of a monarchy, and as 
order supposes inequalities of ranks and suggests the necessity of 
an ordering or marshalling, all that attended the court or the camp 
of the sovereign had to be arranged in their proper stations, and these 
were regulated by certain armorial bearings or insignia which were worn 
either in their own right or in his right whom they served or followed. 
The cognizance of all controversies springing out of the user or as- 
sumption of these insignia belonged wholly to the Court of Chivalry j 
and serious indeed were the quarrels and dissensions to which they gave 
rise, when two or more families laid claim to the same arms : sanguin- 
ary feuds were often the consequence j this was more especially the 
case amongst the feudal nobles of France and Italy. 

As an instance of the jealousy that was then felt at anyinferferencewith 
armorial ensigns, may be cited the deposition of John Charnels, who 
says of Sir William Scrope of Mashani : " Being in garrison during 
the old war in a castle, called Quarranteau, he with forty of his com- 
rades irade a chivauchee to the castle of Timbre, higher up the 
country, designing to take any other castle or to perform some piece of 
service in their route. Among them was Sir William Scrope, brother 
he believed of Sir Henry Scrope ; and finding the garrison of Geneville, 
without the town, and in disorder, Charnels and his comrades attacked 

+ Duck de Authoritate Juris Civilis, lib. ii, c. 8 pars 8, s. 18. 

* Sta. 13 Richard I., c. 2. 

Finch in Nomotcchn. lib. 4. c. 1. 


them and made about forty prisoners. A knight, called Sir Philip de 
la Monstue, became prisoner to Charnels and because he was armed in 
the entire arms of Sir William Scrope, he wished to kill him. Charnels 
therefore made his prisoner divest himself of his arms, or Scrope would 
certainly have put him to death.'' It may indeed have been that doubts, 
which had been raised as to the Scrope right in this particular, had 
made the members of the family more than ordinarily sensitive upon 
the subject ; and we find several depositions of the Grosvenor witnesses 
in which old soldiers somewhat sneeringly insinuate that two law- 
yers were the first of the family who had borne the arms ; and it is ex- 
pressly stated that at an early period of his life, Sir Richard Scrope 
made proposals for the daughter of Sir Robert Hilton ; but the terms 
not being accepted, he married a daughter of Sir William de la Pole 5 
at which Hilton was so enraged that he said : " I am glad that he did 
not marry my daughter, for I have heard that he is not a ' grand gentil 
homme/ " To which however Sir John Hasethorpe, then more than an 
hundred years old, replied : ' ' Sir, say not so, for I assure you, on my soul, 
he is descended from grands gentils hommes from the times of the con- 
quest." In addition to this, there were about that time two other rival 
claimants to the arms in question, a Carminow and a Grosvenor; even 
Sir Richard Scrope's right to bear his crest, a crab issuing from a ducal 
crown, had been challenged at Calais forty years before the suit of 
Scrope v. Grosvenor, which might render Sir William Scrope still 
more tender upon the point. 

In Italy political subdivisions, fortunately for the domestic peace of 
that country, tended in some measure to keep adverse claimants of simi- 
lar arms asunder, so that their animosity could only display itself upon 
rare occasions. For the local government would only interfere between 
families in the same state ; consequently the ancient Florentine family 
of Delia Presa were suffered with impunity to bear the same arms as 
the equally ancient Venetian family Cornari, of which descendants are 
said to exist in this country under the Anglicised form, Corner. So 
the Dandoli of Venice, of whom was 

" blind old Dandalo 
The octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe," 

and the Giandonati of Florence, houses of almost equal antiquity had 
the same heraldic insignia. The same was the case with the Fieschi 
of Genoa and the Inbangati of Florence. 

The Scotti of Parma bear, we believe, the Douglas arms, but then they 
are said to be of the same race. 

The same reason which hindered the supreme authority in the differ- 
ent states of Italy from interfering where the same arms were borne by 
foreign families, weighed, it would seem in influencing the decision of a 
cause of arms in which Sir Richard Scrope had been engaged before 
his contest with Sir Robert Grosvenor. Sir Richard had been challenged 
by an esquire of Cornwall, named Carminow, as to his right to bear tho 
arms, azure a bend or, and the dispute was decided by the Duke of 
Lancaster, the Earl of Northampton, the constable, and the Earl of 
Warwick, the marshal of the army, who adjudged that they might 
both bear the said arms entire, on the ground that Carminow was of 


Cornwall which was a large country and was formerly a kingdom, and that 
the Scropes had borne them since the conquest. 

In this country discussions not seldom arose, which were brought 
before the Court of Chivalry : such were the cases of Sir Reginald Grey 
de Ruthven and Sir Edward Hastings, Thomas Bawdy and Nicholas 
Singleton, and many others which after long litigation and debate were 
finally settled either by a judicial sentence of the curia militaris, by an 
appeal to the arbitrament of the duel, or to the king himself, as was the 
course taken in the most celebrated case of them all, that of Sir Richard 
Scrope and Sir Robert Grosvenor.* 

The cause of Hastings and Gray de Ruthven, before the consta- 
ble and marshal, regarded the right to bear the arms of Hastings, or a 
maunch gu. It lasted twenty years and was finally decided against 
Hastings, who was condemned in heavy costs and imprisoned sixteen 
years for disobeying the judgment of the court. 

The cause of Baudy and Singleton respected the right to the arms. 

fules three chevronels or, and it is singular enough that Sir Richard 
crope was one of the peers commanded by the king (18 Richard II.) 
to settle the affair so similar to the one in which he had himself been a 

The proceedings in the Scrope and Grosvenor controversy extend from 
1385 to 1389, during the whole of which period Thomas of Woodstock, 
Duke of Gloucester, youngest son of Edward III., was Lord High 
Constable, and Thomas de Mowbray, Earl of Nottingham, subsequently 
created Duke of Norfolk, was Earl Marshal, the first who had the title 
of earl prefixed to the name of office. It is noted that the high appoint- 
ments of Presidents of the Court of Chivalry were assigned to each of 
these unfortunate personages on account of female connections, the 
latter representing, on the mother's side, the Brotherton branch of the 
house of Plantagenet, the former having married the Lady Alianore de 
Bohun, one of the daughters and coheirs of Humphrey, last Earl of 
Hereford, Essex and Northampton, in whose powerful family the office 
of Lord High Constable of England had been hereditary for the two 
preceding centuries. The Lady Margaret Plantagenet, Duchess of 
Norfolk, grandmother of Lord Mowbray, challenged a right to the office 
of Marshal at the coronation of Richard II., and prayed that she might 
perform the duties by deputy ; the claim however was not then allowed, 
Henry, Lord Percy having been specially appointed to act as Marshal 
upon that occasion. The prefix of earl to the subsequent appointment 
of her grandson might perhaps be used to obviate any slight to the 
Duchess who was then living. Once assumed however it was ever after- 
wards retained. This illustrious personage, the Duke of Norfolk, lost by 
his hostility to the king's favourite De Vere the favour of the crown, 
and subsequently bis life. The Earl Marshal thinking to ingratiate him- 
self with King Richard, became one of the main tools of his murderous 
designs, a subserviency that did not save himself from subsequent ruin 
and destruction consequent upon the denunciation of his own treasonous 
language by Henry Duke of Hereford, afterwards Henry IV., of which 
so graphic and vivid a picture is drawn by the immortal pen of our great 
dramatist : in which Bolingbroke is made to say, 

Duck op. cit. lib. 11. c. 8. s< xx. 


" Now Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, 
And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak 
My body shall make good upon tl .is earth, 
Or my divine soul answer it in Heaven. 
Thou art a traitor and a miscreant ; 
Too good to be so and too bad to live." 

RICHARD II., Act I , Scene I. 

In the proceedings in the case of Scrope and Grosvenor, however, 
Thomas of Gloucester took the principal share, and the Earl Marshal 
seems not to have been present upon any of the occasions, but to have been 
represented by his deputy (Lieutenant) Johan de Multon ; the commissions 
to examine witnesses run in the name of the constable alone, and it 
is noteworthy that the writs in the appeal are not from the sentence of 
the Court of Chivalry, nor from the joint judgment of the constable 
and the marshal, but from that of the constable alone.* And yet Dr. 
Duckf tells us that the " conestabilis et marescallus Angliae pari potestate 
in causis pronunciant." But it is manifest from the history of the Court 
of Chivalry and from royal reluctance to revive the office, that if, to use 
Sir Edward Coke's language, the Lord High Admiral was the Neptune 
of our courts, the Lord High Constable was the Mars j and the equality of 
jurisdiction assumed by the Marshal was perhaps not prior to the 20th 
Rich. II., when he was first named in the King's Patent Earl (comes 
rnarescallus.) The terms of the stat. 13 Rich. II., stat. 1, c. 2, seem 
also to favour the superior authority of the constable, "To the con- 
stable" it says, " belongs the cognizance of contracts touching deeds of 
arms," &c., and yet in a subsequent clause it permits a privy seal to 
issue to the constable and marshal to surcease certain pleas, 

Thomas of Woodstock would seem to have been the first recognised 
head of the Court of Chivalry who took any great or active part in 
giving a regular and legal form to its proceedings j and there are extant 
in the libraries of Lincoln's Inn, and of the Inner Temple, copies of a 
book dedicated and presented by Thomas Fitz au Roy, Duke of Glou- 
cester to his cousin, King Richard, containing ordinances regulating trial 
by battle.} 

The ancient Norman house of Scrob, Scroby, Lescrope or Scrope, 
which subsequently became severed in the kindred branches of the 
Scropes of Bolton, and of Masham, acted a conspicuous part in almost all 
the great occurrences of British history, from the reign of Edward II. 
to the First Charles, during which period it has been observed that the 
family produced two earls, and twenty barons, one chancellor, four 
treasurers, and two chief justices of England, five knights of the garter 
and numerous bannerets, the highest military order in the days of 
chivalry. Even at an earlier period the family had been one of station 

* Sciatis quod cum constabularius noster Anglicc in quadam causa cle et super armis 
de azura cum una benda de auro inter Ric. Le Scropum militem partem actricem ex 
parte una et Robertum Grosvenour partem defendentem ex altera parte in curia 
nostra militari mota et pendente procedens quandam sentendam definitivam injustam 
ut asseritur tulisset, $c. vol. i. p. 11, and p. 354, 356. 

t Op. cit. lib. ii., cap. 8, s. xiii. 

J Lincoln's Inn Library MSS., Sir Thomas Hale, vol. xi. pi. 6. The ordinances 
of Thomas, Duke of Gloucester, constable of England, touching battails armed within 
lists, with an historical and legal commentary. Inner Temple Library MSS. the 
same, with a comment by Sir John Burgh, Knight, and proceedings upon an appeal of 
treason before the constable and marshal in a court military. 



and consideration, and if a chronicle can be relied on, and the evidence of 
the Prior of Bardeney and Welton, (one of the deponents in favour of 
Scrope) can be esteemed sufficient identifications, its original founder 
was a Norman settled in this country in the time of Edward the Con- 
fessor, and as a favourite with that monarch, excepted out of the general 
proscription, which it seems, drove for a time all Normans from the realm 
to which, not long afterwards, they were to give laws. But be this how 
it may, and the coincidence of name and proximity of estates counte- 
nance the position, certain it nevertheless is that for its peculiar splen- 
dour the Scropes, like many noble families of more recent date, were in- 
debted to the profession of the law. Sir Henry le Scrope, eldest son 
of Sir William le Scrope, according to the deposition of Sir William 
A ton, was with the assent of his relatives put to the law, mys al le ley, and 
was made a judge of the Court of King's Bench, 27 Nov. 1308, 2 Edward 
II. ; he afterwards became the chief justice. He was a knight banneret, 
and is so named in a roll of arms compiled between the 2 and 7 Edward 
II,, which describes his bearings as azure a bend or, charged in the upper 
part of the bend, with a lion passant purpure. The Prior of Gisburgh, (Sir 
Harris Nicolas says the Abbot of Coverham, a slight inaccuracy,) deposed 
that the lion was introduced into the bend in consequence of a grant to 
one of the Scropes for the term of his life by the Earl of Lincoln, a 
mode of marking affection and friendship by no means unusual at that 
early period, although it was afterwards considered that as honours could 
alone emanate from the crown, royal assent was essential to the validity 
of any such grants j so the devise of his arms by Lord D'Eincourt was 
questioned, according to Sir Edward Coke, in the House of Lords. How- 
ever Selden and Camden have alluded to the practice, and Cheshire 
historians have commented upon the frequency of the garb in the bear- 
ing of families of that county which was assumed as a mark of respect 
for or connection with the Earls of Cheshire. 

By far the most illustrious member of the house of Scrope, of Bolton, 
was however Sir Richard, the plaintiff in this suit of arms, who appears 
to have been conspicuous for the rare union of the qualities essential to 
the judge, the statesman and the warrior. Present in the battles of 
Cressy, Durham, Najarra, the friend and comrade-in-arms of the most 
eminent noblemen of the time, he rilled amongst other high offices, those 
of treasurer, steward of the king's household, and lord high chancellor. 
He appears to have been honoured by the respect and confidence of 
those sovereigns. John of Gaunt was his especial patron ; the Black 
Prince presented him with a covered tankard: a sword of Edward III. 
(probably also a gift from the monarch) Sir Richard bequeathed by his 
will to his son Stephen; Richard II. heaped dignities upon him and 
his family, and we find Henry IV. in the first year of his reign protesting 
" that he then considered him, and had always deemed him, a loyal 

The termination of his long and eventful career was embittered by 
the downfall of his eldest son the Earl of Wilts, who fell a sacrifice to 
the cause of the dethroned monarch whose favorite he had been. " Few 
incidents," says Sir H. Nicolas, " can be imagined of a more affect- 
ing description than the scene in Parliament, when the attainder of 
the Earl of Wiltshire was confirmed. Rising from his seat, his eyes 
streaming with tears ; the venerable peer implored that the proceedings 
might not affect the inheritance of himself or his children, and after 


admitting the justice of the sentence, and deploring the conduct of his 
son, the unhappy father was consoled by his sovereign, who deigned to 
assure him thai neither his interests nor those of his children then living 
should suffer from it, for that he had always considered, and still deemed 
him a loyal knight.'' 

Such was Sir Richard Scrope at the close of his long career, in his 
seventy-third year. Such was the man backed by ability, wealth, station, 
warlike and civil repute, powerful partizans, royal friends and kingly fa- 
vour, with whom, in the ripe maturity of his life, Sir Robert Grosvenor, 
head of a family little at that period known out of his own country, had 
the hardihood to contend in a cause of arms, where the chief judge was 
his antagonist's friend. Could the issue be doubtful ? 

(To be continued}. 




NECKEN han gangar pa snohvitan sand ; 

Vaker upp alia redlige drangar ! 
Sa skapar han sig till en valdiger man. 

De unga hafva sofvit tiden allt for Idnge. 

Och Nccken han gangar sig till skraddaregard, 
Der later han gora sig den Kladningen bla. 

Sa gangar han sig allt upp under 6, 
Der dansar sa mangen utvalder mo. 

Necken han trader i dansen in, 

De Jungfruer rodna och blekna pa kind. 

Och Necken han drager det roda gullband, 
Det faller sa val uti Jungfruen's hand. 
Och hb'r du, skon Jungfru, havad jag saga ma ; 
Om sondag sku'vi motas, allt uppa Kyrkogard. 

Och Jungfrun hon skulle till Kyrkan fara, 
Och Hallfast han skulle hennes Koresven vara. 

Tommar af silke och selen af gull ; 
Kara du Hallfast, du Kor int' omkull ! 

Jungfrun hon aker till Kyrkan fram, 
Och der moter hon sin fasteman. 

Necken han rider till Kyrkan fram, 
Han haktar sitt betsel pa Kyrkokam. 

Necken han ganger i Kyrkan in, 

Och radios ar Jungfrun for fasteman sin. 

Priisten han framfor altaret staor ; 
Hvad ar-fb'r en man, pa gangen der star ? 
Havr ar du fodder och hvar ar du buren ? 
Eller hvar hafver du dina klader val skuren, 



I hafvet, der iir jag bad fodder och buren, 
Och der hafver jag mina kofklader skuren. 

Och folket gich ut och skyndale hem, 

Och bruden hon stod qvar med Brudgummen an. 

Och hvar liar du Fader och hvar har du Moder ? 
Och hvar har du vanner och hvar har du frander ? 

Min Fader och Moder a' boljorna bla ; 
Mina vanner och frander a' stickor och stra. 

Och det ar sa svart uti hafvet att bo ; 
Der aro sa manga, som ofver oss ro. 

Ja, det ar sa svart uti hafvet att vara ; 
Der aro sa manga som ofver oss fara. 

Necken tog Jungfrun i fager gulan lock, 
Sa band han henne vid sin sadelaknapp. 

Och Jungfrun hon ropa' sa sorgeligt rop, 
Det hordes sa vida till Konungens gard. 

De sokte den Jungfrun allt ofver bro ; 
Der funno de hennes gullspanda skor. 

De sokte den Jungfrun allt upp efter fors, 
Der funno de hennes linosa kropp. 


The Necken he walks on the sea- strand so white, 

Wake ye my merrie men up from sleep, 
And he changes his shape to a gallant young knight, 

Too long has the youth lain in slumber deep. 

And into the tailor's house quickly he hies, 
And dons him in robes of the finest blue dyes. 

Then the Necken goes off to the far Isle away, 
Where the lovely young villagers dance all the day. 

He joins in the dance, and so gracefully moves, 
Every maid as she looks on him feels that she loves. 

And the Necken he takes up the shining gold band, 
It becometh so sweetly the fair maiden's hand. 

And hearken, fair maid, what I say unto thee, 

In the churchyard, next Sunday, our meeting shall be. 

Away to the church doth the fair maiden ride, 
And Hailfast the driver he sat by her side. 

The bridle was silk, and the shafts were of gold, 
And Hailfast the driver was skilful and bold. 

The Maid in her white wedding garment is cloth'd, 
And she enters the church, and she meets her betroth'd. 

The Necken he rode to the church tower so grey, 
And he fastened his steed to the ancient church key. 


And the Necken passed down thro' the old pillar'd aisles 
And the fair maiden met him with tears and with smiles. 

The priest at the altar with smooth solemn brow 

Marks the air of the stranger Sir Knight who art thou ? 

Where wert thou begotten and where wert thou born ? 
Where got thou the robes that thy person adorn ? 

And I was begotten and born, quoth he, 

And mine, only mine, are the robes that you see. 

Away to their homes are the villagers gone, 
The Bride with the Bridegroom remaineth alone. 

Thy father, thy mother, thy brother, thy friends ? 
Where be they ? I fear what thy silence portends. 

My father and mother the blue billows be, 

And my friends are the wild sedge that grows by the sea. 

O God ! must I dwell in the wild waves below 
While the blithe- hearted fisherman over us row ? 

Yes yes in the billows so cold and so pale, 
While the seamen so joyously over us sail. 

The Necken took hold of her sweet yellow hair, 
He bound to his saddle the maiden so fair. 

And loudly she shrieked, and the heart-broken wail 
Was born o'er the land on the wings of the gale. 

They sought the fair maid in the highways all round, 
And nought but her gold-buckled slippers they found. 

They sought the fair maid in the waterfalls dark 
They found her a corpse, pallid, withered, and stark. 


Och Jungfrun hon gangar i rosendelund, 
Der fick hon se standande sa fager en Lind. 

Den allri'n'gm sorg fordrefva kunde. 

" Har standar du Lind sa fager du aj, 
Med forgyllande blader, som du ocksa bar.'' 

" Det ar val inte at att du sa rosar mig, 
For lyckan ar battre for dig an for mig. 

I morgon komma friare, som fria till dig ; 

Och da komma timmerman, som skada uppa mig. 

Sa hugga de mig till en Altarespang, 

Der mangen grofver syndare skall hafva sin gang. 

" Sa hugga de mig till ett Altaretia, 

Des mangen grofver syndare skall falla pa kn'a." 

" Och ka'ra du Lind, emedan du kan tala ; 
Aer ingen i verlden till som dig kan hugsvala ? 

Och ingen ar i verlden som mig kan hugsvala j 
Forutan Kung Magnus, den jag aldrig med far tala. 


Och Jungfrun hon satte sig neder att skrifva ; 
Ack ! hade jag nagon, sorn det brefvet kunde fora. 

Shax kom det der fram en falk sa gra ; 

Jag for val det bref till Kung Magnus's gard 

Och Falken tog brefvet allt i sina klor, 

Sa latt flyger han dit Kung Magnus han bor. 

Kung Magnus tog brefvet ur Falkens klor, 
Sa hateliz liiste han hvart endaste ord. 

,Kung Magnus han talte till tjenarena sa, 
J sadlen mig strax upp gangaren gra. 

J sadlen mig strax upp rinnaren rod, 

For jag skall rid' och fralsa min stackers fastemo. 

Kung Magnus han satte sig pa rinnaren rod, 
Sa red han litet fortare an falken han flog. 

Kung Magnus foil nod allt uppa sina kna, 
Sa Kystte han den Jungfrun i Lindetr'ad. 

Kung Magnus foil ned f6r Jungfruns fot, 
Sa kyoste han henne pa Linderot. 

Kung Magnus tog Linden allt uti sin famn, 
Sa fager en Jungfrun af henne upprann. 

Kung Magnus lyfte Jungfrun pa gangaren gra, 
Sao red han med henne allt uppa sin gard. 
Kung Magnus han satte den Jungfrun pa sitt knii, 
Och guf'na gullkronan och fastningen med. 


And the maiden she walks where the red roses blow, 
There sees she a Linden most beauteously grow. 

Oh ! there's no one to cure me of sadness. 

Here standest thou, Linden tree, blooming and fair, 

With the gold-gleaming leaves which thy bright branches bear. 

Oh ! there's, 8fC. 

Ah ! maiden, sweet maiden, why praise ye me so ? 
For thou art most happy, while I am in woe. 

To-morrow come suitors to claim thy white hand ; 
To-morrow come woodmen my life to demand. 

They will hew me to pieces to make them a stairs 
To the altar, where sinners gasp sorrowful prayers. 

They will hew me to pieces to make them a shrine, 
Where penitents kneeling seek mercy divine. 

O Linden, dear Linden, and since thou canst speak, 

Is there none on this broad earth whose aid thou wouldst seek ? 

Oh ! there's none on this broad earth whose aid I could seek 
But King Magnus, with whom I can ne'er hope to speak. 

And the maiden sat down, and a letter she penn'd, 
Oh ! had I to bear it some trustworthy friend ! 


When straight there came flying a falcon so grey ; 
To the halls of King Magnus I'll bear it to-day. 

Then away with the letter the grey falcon flew, 
Till the halls of King Magnus rose up on his view. 

The King took the letter and hastily read, 
And his cheeks grew as pale and as cold as the dead. 
Then out spake King Magnus Up, saddle my steed 
With the grey flowing mane and the fetlocks of speed. 
The red-coated courser, quick, saddle for me, 
Away, and away, till my true love is free. 
King Magnus leaped up on his courser so red, 
And fleeter by far than the falcon he fled. 

King Magnus he came, and he fell on his knee, 
And kiss'd the young maid in the fair linden tree. 
King Magnus knelt down at the light maiden's foot, 
And kiss'd her again in the linden tree's root. 

Then the King to his heart the fair linden tree press'd, 
And a Virgin most beautiful blush' d on his breast. 
The King rais'd the Virgin upon his grey steed, 
And bore her away to his castle with speed. 

And she sat in her state on the knee of the King, 
With a crown of red gold, and a gold wedding ring. 


One evening from a rocky height 

I watched the sunbeams' parting light 

Lingering o'er the distant sea, 

Which then lay slumb'ring tranquilly ; 

So calm the hour that on, her breast 

The breeze had sigh'd itself 1 to rest, 

And all around was stillness, save 

The murm'ring of the ebbing wave. 

Brightly had shone the summer's day $ 

In golden clouds it passed away ; 

When evening mild, with sombre hue, 

Shed on the scene soft tears of dew, 

In pity to the lovely flowers 

Which droop'd beneath those sultry hours. 

Soon night's fair queen rose o'er the ma;n 

Attended by her starry train, 

A distant sail then caught my sight ; 

Its outline in the pale moonlight 


Reveal'd its purpos'd destiny ; 

Twas bound to plough a foreign sea. 

Strolling that morning on the strand, 

I saw a boat put off the land 

To join that vessel in the bay 

Which for some time at anchor lay, 

Crowded with emigrants. To sail, 

She waited but a favoring gale ; 

And while I gaz'd upon its form, 

Soon doom'd perhaps to brave the storm, 

I thought of that poor boy on deck, 

Who clung around his mother's neck 

So tenderly, at morning tide 

While parting from the vessel's side : 

She press'd him to her widow'd breast 

Where he had often lull'd to rest. 

She held him in a parting fold 

To her sad heart, whose pulse was cold, 

For he who warm'd it with his smile 

Might ne'er again its care beguile. 

She wildly kissed his youthful brow 

And call'd on Heav'n by pray'r and vow 

To take her William to its care 

And guard him safe from every snare. 

The boat appear'd all ready mann'd, 

Its oars were striking off the land, 

The youth upon his mother cast 

One parting look ; it was his last. 

A moment, and the bark was gone, 

The wretched parent stood alone, 

'Tis thus that many an Irish heart 

Is doom'd with all it loves to part 

To leave that darling land of care, 

Or stay and break, and perish there. 

M. D. 



His lordship is second surviving son of the present Duke of Portland. His 
mother Henrietta, eldest daughter of the well-known General Scott, of 
Balcomie, in Fifeshire, derived, in the female line, from the families of the 
famous Scottish worthies, Balliol and Wallace. General Scott was of 
very eccentric notions. By his will, he prohibited any one of his daughters 
from marrying a nobleman ; and provided that disobedience on this point 
should entail a forfeiture of the testamentary bequest. Despite, however, 
of this injunction, the three ladies, all became in the sequel peeresses, and 
by an arrangement amongst themselves preserved their fortunes : the 
eldest, who succeeded to the chief portion of her father's great wealth, mar- 
ried the Duke of Portland ; the second, became the wife of Francis, Lord 
Doune ; and the third, the widow of the Right Hon. George Canning, was 
elevated to the peerage in her own right, at the lamented decease of her dis- 
tinguished husband. Under the guidance of that illustrious statesman, who 
was thus his uncle by marriage, Lord George Bentinck first entered on public 
life ; but he did not long continue at that period to devote himself to political 
pursuits. The attractions of the turf engrossed his attention, and it was 
not until the great struggle that preceded the abolition of the corn laws that 
he gained the leading position he now holds in the parliamentary arena. 

Lord George Bentinck was born 27th Feb. 1802, and is unmarried. He 
has sat in the House of Commons as member for Lynn Regis, in the represen- 
tation of which borough he succeeded his uncle, Lord William Bentinck. 
The ducal house of which his lordship is a scion, was founded by William 
Bentinck, a Dutch noble, who enjoyed in an eminent degree the favour of 
King William III., and was created by his majesty Earl of Portland in 1689. 
His lordship had the command of the Dutch regiment of Horse Guards, and 
took a distinguished part, as Lieutenant- General, at the battle of Boyne. 
He was subsequently invested with the Order of the Garter, and at length 
died in 1709, leaving a large family: the eldest son Henry, second Earl, 
obtained in 1716, the highest grade in the peerage, being elevated to the 
Dukedom of Portland and Marquesate of Tichfield. His Grace died in 
Jamaica, of which he was Captain- General and Governor, 4th July 1726, 
leaving, with other issue, a son and successor, WILLIAM second Duke, K.G., 
who added considerably to his fortune and influence, by marrying the Lady 
Margaret Cavendish Harley, only daughter and heir of Edward, second arl 
of Oxford, by Lady Henrietta Cavendish Holies, his wife, only daughter 
and heir of John, first Duke of Newcastle. The paternal grandfather of this 
richly portioned heiress, Robert Harley, was the illustrious minister of the 
reign of Queen Anne, and her maternal grandfather, the Duke of Newcastle 
had the reputation of being one of the richest subjects in the kingdom. 
From him has descended to the present Duke of Portland Welbeck Abbey, 
Notts, together with the valuable property of Cavendish Square, Holies 
Street, and its neighbourhood, so productive at the present day. 

The son and heir of the marriage of the second Duke of Portland with 
the heiress of the Harleys, the Holies' and the Cavendishes, was William- 
Henry, third Duke, K.G., who filled the dignified office of Viceroy of Ire- 


land in 1782, and was twice Prime Minister. He wedded Dorothy, only 
daughter of William, fourth Duke of Devonshire, and dying in 1809, was 
succeeded by his eldest son, William- Henry Cavendish, the present chief of 
the ducal house of Portland. 


OUR obituary of this month records the death of the O'CoNoa DON, a 
gentleman universally esteemed and beloved, in whom vested the represen- 
tation of the ancient monarchs of Ireland. From the remotest period, his 
ancestors were Kings of Connaught, and in the twelfth century they became 
Sovereigns of all Ireland. Tordhellach O'Conor, who ascended the throne 
in 1 136, reigned twenty years, and died in 1156, leaving two sons, RODE- 
RICK the last monarch of Ireland, and CATHAL Croibh-dearg, or Cathal, of 
the Red Hand. Roderick's history is well known. In 1175, his Chancellor 
Lawrence O'Toole signed the Treaty of Windsor with King Henry II. of 
England, wherein Roderick resigned the supreme monarchy but reserved 
to himself Connaught as an independent kingdom. The treaty may be 
seen in Rymer's Fcedera. From Roderick's brother, Cathal, descended 
in a direct line, the late O'Conor Don. The singular title of "Don," so 
constantly used by the successive chiefs of the house, is variously explained. 
Some derive it from Tirlagh O'Conor, living temp. Richard II., who was 
surnamed Don, or the dark, while others carry up its adoption to the time of 
the invasion of Ireland, under Prince Don, the son of Milesius. Certain it 
is that for centuries, it has been the invariable designation of the head of the 
O' Conors ; and was home as such by the late O'Conor Don. Of the 
princely heritage that erst belonged to his royal ancestors, a small tract 
alone remained. Spoliation and persecution the result of loyalty to the 
king, and devotion to the ancient faith gave the final blow to the power of 
this illustrious house. Major Owen O Conor, of Belanagare, governor of 
Athlone for James II., was taken prisoner by William of Orange, and con- 
fined in the Castle of Chester, where he died in 1692, and his nephew and 
eventual heir Denis O'Conor of Belanagare, was involved in the troubles and 
misfortunes which seemed at that period, the common inheritance of all who 
professed the Catholic religion. Suits were instituted for the sequestration 
of his paternal estates, and he was happy to preserve a portion by the sacri- 
fice of the rest. Though thus left but a small fragment of the once broad 
domains of his forefathers domains, which were [guaranteed by several 
solemn and indisputable treaties, he was still the supporter of all, whose 
virtues or distresses had a claim upon his bounty. The traditions of the 
country attest his unostentatious benevolence and hospitality, and the effu- 
sions of the bards record the virtues of his character. At Belanagare, it 
was that Carolan composed the most impassioned of his melodies, and felt 
the true poetic inspiration. " I think," said the bard on one occasion, 
" that when I am among the % O'Conors, the harp has the old sound in it." 
Denis O'Conor's son and successor, CHARLES O'CONOR, of Belanagare, a 
learned antiquary, early devoted Lis attention to elucidating the history of 
his country, and unfolding the long neglected records of her people ; and 
collected, with indefatigable research and labour, the most valuable in- 
formation regarding the annals and antiquities of Ireland. He also took a 
prominent place amongst those who first struggled for Catholic Emancipation. 
Of his grandsons, the eldest OWEN O'CONOR, of Belanagare, succeeded to 
the title of Don as head of the family at the decease of his kinsman Alex- 


ander, O' Conor Don in 1820; and the second, Charles O'Conor, D.D., 
chaplain at Stowe, was the erudite author of " Rerum Hibernicarum Scrip- 
tores," " Columbanus's Letters," &c. The former, Owen O'Conor Don, 
was father of the respected gentleman, whose decease has given rise to the 
foregoing remarks. 


Oh ! Charity ! our helpless nature's pride, 
Thou friend to him who knows no friend beside, 
Is there in morning's breath, or the sweet gale 
That steals o'er the tired pilgrim of the vale, 
Cheering with fragrance fresh his weary frame, 
Aught like the incense of thy holy frame ? 
Is aught in all the beauties that adorn 
The azure heaven, or purple lights of morn ? 
Is aught so fair in evening's lingering gleam, 
As from thine eye the meek and pensive beam 
That falls like saddest moonlight on the hill 
And distant grove, when the wide world is still ? 
Thine are the ample views, that unconfined 
Stretch to the utmost walks of human kind : 
Thine is the Spirit, that with widest plan 
Brother to brother binds, and man to man. 

Among the many illustrious families of which our nobility is composed, 
that of Digby deserves a prominent position. In the reign of the first Charles, 
one of its descendants, the renowned Sir Kenelm, "the ornament of Eng- 
land," rendered the name famous throughout the Christian world, and, at 
all times, we may trace, in the pages of history, honourable mention of this 
eminent house. Edward, sixth Lord Digby, to whom the following interest- 
ing narrative refers, was son of the Hon. Edward Digby by Charlotte, his 
wife, sister of Henry, Lord Holland, (father of Charles James Fox), and 
succeeded to the peerage at the decease of his grandfather in 1752, being 
then just of age. The excellence of his disposition and the kindness of 
his heart won for him universal esteem ; and few events were more deeply 
deplored than his untimely death. Of his active benevolence, a gentleman, 
who enjoyed his lordship's regard and friendship, has left the following 
anecdote on record : 

"Lord Digby came often to Parliament Street, and I could not help 
remarking a a singular alteration in his dress and demeanour, which took 
place during the great festivals. At Christmas and Easter he was more 
than usually grave, and then always had on an old shabby blue coat. I 
was led, as well as many others, to conclude that it was some affair of the 
heart which caused this periodical singularity. Mr. Fox, his uncle, who had 
great curiosity, wished much to find out his nephew's motive for appearing 
at times in this manner, as in general he was esteemed more than a well 
dressed man. On his expressing an inclination for this purpose, Major 
Vaughan and another gentleman undertook to watch his lordship's motions. 
They accordingly set out ; and observing him to go to St. George's Fields, 
they followed him at a distance, till they lost sight of him near the Marshal- 
sea Prison. Wondering what could carry a person of his lordship's rank 
and fortune to such a place, they enquired of the turnkey if such a gentle- 
man (describing Lord D.) had not entered the prison ? " Yes, Masters," 
exclaimed the fellow, with an oath, " but he is uot a man, he is an angel ; 


for he comes here twice a year, sometimes oftener, and sets a number of 
prisoners free. And he not only does this, but he gives them sufficient to 
support themselves and their families till they can find employment. " This," 
continued the man, " is one of his extraordinary visits. He has but a few 
to take out to day." " Do you know who the gentleman is ?" enquired the 
major. " We none of us know him by any other marks/' replied the man, 
" but by his humanity and his blue coat." 

One of the gentleman could not resist the desire of making some further 
enquiries relative to the occurrence from which he reaped so much satisfac- 
tion. The next time, accordingly, his lordship had his alms- giving coat on, 
he asked him what occasioned his wearing that singular dress ? With a 
smile of great sweetness, his lordship told him that his curiosity should soon 
be gratified, for as they were congenial souls, he would take him with him 
when he next visited the place to which his coat was adapted. One morning 
shortly after, his lordship accordingly requested the gentleman to accompany 
him on a visit to that receptacle of misery which his lordship had so often 
explored, to the consolation of its inhabitants. His lordship would not 
uffer his companion to enter the gate, lest the hideousness of the place 
should prove disagreeable to him ; but he ordered the coachman to drive to 
the George Inn in the Borough, where a dinner was ordered for the happy 
individuals he was about to liberate. Here the gentleman had the pleasure 
of seeing nearly thirty persons rescued from the jaws of a loathsome prison, 
at the inclement season of the year, being in the midst of winter, and not 
only released from their confinement, but restored to their families and 
friends, with some provision from his lordship's bounty for their immediate 

Lord Digby went, some few months after these beneficent acts, to visit his 
estates in Ireland, where he caught a putrid fever, of which he died in the 
dawn of life, November 30, 1757. 

Well may we add with the poet ; 

O ye, who list to Pleasure's vacant song, 
As in her silken train ye troop along ; 
Who, like rank cowards from affliction fly, 
Or, whilst the precious hours of life pass by, 
Lie slumbering in the sun ! Awake, arise 
To these instructive pictures turn your eyes, 
The awful view with other feelings scan, 
And learn from Digby what man owes to man ! 

His Lordship died unmarried and was succeeded in his honour and estates 
jy his brother Henry, father of the present Earl Digby. 


THIS Veil, said to be that with which the unfortunate Maiy covered her 
head on the scaffold, after the executioner whether from awkwardness or 
confusion is uncertain had wounded the unhappy victim in the shoulder 
by a false blow still exists ; and is still, we believe, in the possession of Sir 
John Stuart Hippisley, Bart., whose father, Sir John Cox Hippisley, had an 
engraving made from it, by Matteo Dioltavi, in Rome, 1818, and gave 
copies to his friends. 

The Veil is embroidered with gold spangles by (as it is said) the Queen's 
own hand, in regular rows, crossing each other, so as to form small ^squares, 


and edged with a gold border, to which another border has been subsequently 
joined, in which the following words are embroidered in letters of gold 

" Velum Serenissimse Marise, Scotise et Gallise Reginse Martyris, quo 
induebatur dum ab Heretica ad mortem injustissimam condemnata fuit : 
Anno Sal. MDLXXXVI. a nobilissima matrona Anglicana diu conservatum 
et tandem, donationis ergo Deo et Societati Jesu Consecratum." 

On the plate there is an inscription, with a double certificate of its authen- 
ticity, which states that this Veil, a family treasure of the expelled house of 
Stuart, was finally in possession of.the last male representative of that Royal 
House, the Cardinal of York, who preserved it for many years in his private 
Chapel, among the most precious relics, and at his death bequeathed it to 
Sir J. C. Hippisley, together with a valuable Plutarch, and a codex with 
painted (illuminated) letters, and a gold coin struck in Scotland in the reign of 
Queen Mary ; and it was especially consecrated by Pope Pius VII. in his 
Palace on the Quirinal, April 29th, 1818. 

Sir J. C. Hippisley during a former residence at Rome, had been very intimate 
with the Cardinal of York, and was instrumental in obtaining for him, when 
he with the other Cardinals emigrated to Venice in 1 798, a pension of 4,000 
a year from the Prince of Wales (afterwards George the Fourth) ; but for 
which, the fugitive Cardinal, all whose revenues were seized by the French, 
would have been exposed to the greatest distress. The Cardinal desired to 
requite this service by the bequest of what he considered so valuable. 

According to a note on the plate, the Veil is eighty-nine inches long, 
(English) and forty-three broad, so that it seems to have been rather a kind 
of shawl or scarf than a Veil. If we remember rightly, Melville in his 
Memoirs, which Schiller had read, speaks of a handkerchief belonging to 
the Queen, which she gave away before her death, and Schiller founds upon 
this anecdote the well-known words of the farewell scene, addressed to 
Hannah Kennedy. 

" Accept this handkerchief ! with my own hand 
For thee I've work'd it in my hours of sadness 
And interwoven with my scalding tears : 
With this thoul't bind my eyes." 

Sir John S. Hippisley descends from John Hippisley, Esq. of Yattan, 
Recorder of Bristol in the reign of Edward VI., of a different family, we 
apprehend, from that of Camley, from which spring the Hippisleys of Stone- 
Easton, co. Somerset, the Hippisleys of Lamborne, Berks, and the Hippis- 
leys of Stanton, Wilts. ROBERT HIPPISLEY TRENCHARD, ESQ., the late 
representative of the Stanton branch, married twice : by his first wife he 
had a son, who d. s.p. and a dau. : Ellen m. 1st to John Ashfordby, Esq., 
and 2ndly to John Long, Esq. of Preshaw : and by his second, he left a 
son, Gustavus Mathias Hippisley, Esq., who m. Ellen, dau. of Thomas 
Fitzgerald, Knight of Glin, and died in 1831, leaving issue, 1st, Gustavus 
Alexander Butler Hippisley ; 2nd, Robert Fitzgerald Hippisley, Lieut. R.N. 
d. unm. ; 3rd, Charles James Hippisley, Lieut. R.N. ; 4th, Augustus John 
Hippisley; 1st, Ellen Georgiana : and 2nd, Jane Augusta, m. to W.J. Richard- 
son, Esq. 


JENNY LIND continues her career of unparalleled success at Her Majesty's 
Theatre, and of course the house is still crowded night after night to suffo- 
cation ; thus, too, we think it would be, were the enchantress to remain for 
months and months to come. So powerful has been the attraction that no 
other place of dramatic entertainment in London has been able to make way 
except the French Theatre, which the genius of Rachel has now rendered 
great in public favour. This proves how true it is that talent real, indispu- 
table, surpassing talent, of whatever character or clime, is sure to reign tri- 
umphant over the mind of this mighty metropolis. We shall speak further 
of Rachel immediately ; we now return to Jenny Lind. Her newest and 
latest wonder has been her performance in Verdi's opera composed expressly 
for her Majesty's Theatre, entitled " I Masnadieri." This lyric production 
was represented for the first time on the evening of Thursday the 22nd 
July, and met with complete success. Verdi himself conducted the orches- 
tra, and his presence was hailed with rapturous applause. 

" I Masnadieri," as its title infers, is a brigand story, and is founded on 
the Robbers of Schiller, the plot of which, the Italian libretto closely and 
cleverly follows. The cast of the principal characters is this : 

Carlo Moor Gardoni. 

Francesco Moor Coletti. 

Massimiliano Moor Lablache. 

Moser Bouche. 

Arminio Corelli. 

Amalia Jenny Lind. 

The Times has given so remarkably clear and curiously elaborate an ac- 
count of the course of the incidents and music in "I Masnadieri' that we 
cannot do better than extract it here. 

" The opera" says the critic of the Times " commences with an instru- 
mental prelude in which there is a violoncello solo. The curtain rises and 
discovers Carlo in a tavern on the confines of Saxony. He is reading Plu- 
tarch, and expresses his disgust at the degeneracy of his own age, in a re- 
citative imitated from the same situation in Schiller. At this time he has 
written home for his father's forgiveness, and expresses in a tender cavatina 
(" Oh mio Castel Paterno'') accompanied by the wind instruments, the joy 
he anticipates from revisiting the place of his birth. The troop of his com- 
rades enter with a letter, which contains a refusal of the pardon. On be- 
holding Carlo's despair, they agree to form a troop of robbers and elect him 
for their leader. The scene terminates with Carlo's caballetta, in which he 
vents his rage and despair, and is joined by the chorus. We are now re- 
moved to the castle of the Moor family, and find Francesco, the younger 
son, expressing his impatience at his father's long life now he has got rid of 
his elder brother. He sings an aria with violoncello accompaniments, fol- 
lowed by a spirited cabaletta, after he has plotted with Arminio (Italian for 
" Herman,") that the latter shall disguise himself as a soldier, and make 
a false statement of Carlo's death. The chamber of the old Count Massi- 
miliano Moor is then discovered. He is sleeping, and his niece Amalia, the 
betrothed of Carlo, is watching. After a prelude of flute, oboe, and clari- 
onet and a recitative accompanied by these instruments, comes a light cava 


tina by Amalia, " Lo aguardo avea," the words of which are taken from 
Schiller's Schon ure Engel. This is followed by a duet between Amalia and 
the older Moor ; and the act terminates with a quartet, consequent upon the 
entrance of Francesco and Arminio with the news of Carlo's death. The parts 
taken by the several personages indicate their various characters ; and the 
orchestral accompaniments are so distributed as to illustrate the different 
passions. The act drops upon the apparent death of the count, who is over- 
come with grief at the melancholy news. These incidents in the castle be- 
long to Schiller's act. 

" The opening portion of the second act of the opera is taken from Schil- 
ler's third, with considerable alteration. The first scene represents an en- 
closure near the castle chapel, where Amalia approaches the tomb of old 
Moor. A chorus behind the door indicates the joy of Francesco on suc- 
ceeding to his father's estate, while Amalia, on the stage sings an aria, the 
adagio of which is accompanied by the harp solo, and is followed by a bril- 
liant cabaletta, introduced by the news, brought by Arminio, that Carlo still 
lives. Then comes the offer of love by Francesco, and his rejection of 
Amelia, which forms the subject of a duet. A scene in the forest follows. 
It opens with the incidents connected with the rescue of Rolla, one of the 
band, and the destruction of Prague, all this part of the action being car- 
ried on by the chorus. A romanza, by Carlo, in which he sets forth his 
melancholy condition, comes in relief after the general excitement, and the 
act terminates with a stretta, consequent upon the arrival of the soldiers who 
have surrounded the band. Several incidents of the original play are here 
packed closely together. 

" The third act likewise falls into two portions. First, we have the inter- 
view between Carlo and Amalia in the forest adjoining the castle, which 
gives occasion for a duet. Then we have the interior of the forest, with a 
robber chorus, founded on the celebrated Stehlen, morden, which once set all 
the German students into a blaze of fanaticism. The act ends with the 
rescue by the robbers of the old Moor, who, though supposed dead, is still 
living, having been imprisoned and concealed by Francesco. In the finale, 
the robbers swear that they will avenge the wrongs of their chiefs father. 
The theme is proposed by Carlo, and every phrase is repeated by the chorus. 
This subject, which is first in the minor, goes with a crescendo into the 
major, accompanied by the whole force of the orchestra. 

" The fourth act opens with the terror of the conscience- stricken Fran- 
cesco after his horrible dream. He has a descriptive aria, and on the en- 
trance of the pastor comes a duet, in which the reverend man utters his 
pious menaces, and Francesco prays, while the voices of the robbers who 
are attacking the castle are heard behind the scenes. The pastor is in uni- 
son with the trombones, and Francesco is accompanied by a tremolo on the 
violins, while the robbers are sustained by the whole mass of the orchestra. 
A duet between Carlo and his father, and a trio, in which the robbers join, 
and in which Amalia dies by the hand of Carlo, terminates the opera." 

All the singers engaged exerted themselves with creditable energy and 
evident effect, but, as might be expected, Jenny Lind was the soul of this 
opera. The production has many inherent merits, but her unsurpassable 
voice at once achieved its prosperity. 

Taglioni is now at Her Majesty's Theatre, and still maintains her pre- 
eminence as the divinity of dancing. The management appears determined 
to terminate, as spiritedly as it has carried on, this magnificent season. 



MLLE. RACHEL, the greatest of living tragedians, has, as usual with her, 
converted the St. James's Theatre, previously the arena of vaudeville and 
melodrama, into a temple of the strict and stately classic drama. The 
works of Corneille, Racine, Voltaire, and their modern imitators (a suhject 
we discussed in last month's Patrician), now become as familiar with the 
public, as those of cur own immortal Shakespeare. How admirably are 
those classic plays of France represented at the St. James's Theatre ! The 
faults they undeniably possess sink unnoticed before the surpassing genius 
of Rachel. Length of speechifying, pomposity of diction, and want 
of action are no longer perceived, for, the enchantress has infused her 
spirit into the poetry ; she may be compared to the sun bursting, in its 
glory upon the glassy expanse of some large and lordly lake : the aspect, 
though grand, was chill and inanimate before : it is now on fire, dazzling 
and sparkling in its brilliancy. Mile. Rachel has appeared in Les Horaces, 
Phe'dre, Marie Stuart, Andromaque, Virginie, and Tancrede. The style and 
excellence of her acting as the heroine in the four first of these tragedies 
is now well known : in the last, that of Tancrede by Voltaire, her per- 
formance is a novelty. This powerfully written play, to which the cele- 
brated opera of " Tancredi" owes its libretto, is one of the chef-d'ceuvres 
of its author : it is replete with beautiful verse, and is thoroughly chival- 
rous in sentiment and story. Of Tancrede, M. Schlegel, no friend to 
Voltaire and the classic drama, speaks thus in his celebrated lectures : 

" Since the Cid no Frtnoh tragedy had appeared, of which the plot was 
founded on such pure motives of honour and love without any ignoble in- 
termixtures, and so completely consecrated to the exhibition of chivalrous 
sentiments, as Tancrede. Amenaide, though honour and life are at stake, 
disdains to exculpate herself by a declaration which would endanger her 
lover ; and Tancred, though justified in esteeming her faithless, defends her 
in single combat, and seeks in despair the death of a hero, when the unfor- 
tunate error clears up. So far the piece is irreproachable, and deserving of 
the greatest praise. But it is weakened by other imperfections. It is of 
greatdetriment to its perspicuity, that we cannot at the very first hear the 
letter without superscription, which occasions all the embarrassment, and 
that it is not sent off before our eyes. The political disquisitions in the first 
act are tedious ; Tancrede appears in the third act for the first time, and he 
is impatiently expected to give animation to the scene. The furious impre- 
cations of Amenaide at the conclusion are not in harmony with the deep 
but soft emotion with which we are overpowered by the re-union of two 
lovers, who have mistaken each other, in the moment of their separation by 

The imperfections M. Schlegel speaks of appeared not in the representa- 
tion of the St. James's Theatre : had he listened to Rachel, he would no 
longer have complained of the imprecating language at the conclusion. The 
impassioned eloquence of Rachel gave to the passage exquisite effect. Her 
exclamation " Tancrede, cher Tancrede" as she threw herself on the body 
of the beloved and expiring knight will not be soon forgotten by those who 
heard it. Her acting throughout the whole tragedy was admirable : Amenaide 
is by her personified to the life the high born damsel of an age of chivalry, 


haughty and ardent, yet gentle and benevolent, unbending in her notions of 
honour, and boundless in her affection. At the beginning of the play where 
occurs the following speech, the tone of Rachel is replete with force and 
dignity : 

Ah ! combats ces terreurs, 
Et ne m'en donne point. Souviens-toi que ma m 

Nous unit Tun et 1'autre a ses derniers momens, 

Que Tancre'de est a moi ; qu'aucune loi contraire 

Ne peut rien sur nos vceux, et sur nos sentimens. 

Helas ! nous regrettions cette ile si funeste, 

Dans le sien de la gloire et des murs des Ce'sars ; 

Vers ces champs trop aimes qn'aujourd'hui je dteste ; 

Nous tournions tristement nos avides regards. 

J'e'tais loin de penser que le sort qui m'obsede 

Me gardat pour epoux 1'oppresseur de Tancrdde ; 

Et que j'aurais pour dot Texecrable present 

Des biens qu'un ravisseur enlve a mon amant. 

II faut 1'instruire au moins d'une telle injustice, 

Qu'il apprenne de moi sa perte et mon supplice, 

Qu'il hate son retour et defende ses droits. 

Pour venger un heros je fais ce que je dois. 

Ah ! si je le pouvais, j'en ferais davantage. 

J'aime, je crains un pre, et respecte son age ; 

Mais je voudrais armer nos peuples souleves 

Centre cet Orbasson qui nous a captives. 

D'un brave chevalier sa conduite est indigne. 

Intdressd, cruel, il pr6tend a 1'honneur ! 

II croit d'un peuple libre e"tre le protecteur ! 

11 ordonne ma honte, et mon pere la sigrie ! 

Et je dois la subir, et je dois me livrer 

Au maitre imperieux qui pense m'honorer ! 

Helas ! dans Syracuse on hait la tyrannic. 

Mais la plus execrable, et la plus impunie, 

Est celle qui commande et la haine et 1'amour, 

Et qui veut nous forcer de changer en un jour. 

Le sorte en est jete. 

When she hears that Tancred, who has just slain in single combat her op- 
pressor, nevertheless listens to the accusations against her, her burst of in- 
dignation is truly startling : 


Lui, me croire coupable ! 


Ah ! s'il peut s'abuser, 
Excusez un amant. 


Rien ne peut 1'excuser. . . . 
Quand 1'univers entier m'accuserait d'un crime 
Sur son jugement seul un grand homme appuye, 
A 1'univers seduit oppose son estime. 
II aura done pour moi combattu par pitie ! 
Cet opprobre est affreux, et j'en suis accablee. 
Helas ! mourant pour lui, je mourais consolce ; 



Et c'est lui qui m 'outrage et m'ose soupc.onner ! 

C'en est fait ; je ne veux jamais lui pardonner. 

Ses bienfaits sont toujours presens k ma pense*e, 

Us resteront graves dans mon ame offensee ; 

Mais s'il a pu me croire indigne de sa foi, 

C'est lui qui pour jamais est indigne de moi. 

Ah ! de tous mes affronts c'est le plus grand peut-etre. 
But Tancred is brought wounded to her presence, and in an instant her 
anger is forgotten. Rachel with heart rending eloquence, pours forth her 
whole affection, and agony : the very soul of a fond and despairing woman 
is in her voice : 

Tancr^de, cher amant, trop cruel et trop tendre, 

Dans nos derniers instans, he'las ! peux-tu m'entendre, 

Tes yeux appesantis, peuvent-ils me revoir ? 

He'las ! reconnais-moi, connais mon dese&poir. 

Dans le meme tombeau souffre au moins ton e*pouse, 

C'est-la le seul honneur dont mon ame est jalouse. 

Ce nom sacre m'est dti, tu me 1'avais promis ; 

Ne sois point plus cruel que tous nos ennemis. 

Honore d'un regard ton Spouse fidele. . . . 

(il la regarde). 
C'est done Ik le dernier que tu jettes sur elle !. . . . 

De ton coeur genereux son cceur est-il hai ? 

Peux-tu me soup9onner ? 

M. de Voltaire nearly ninety years ago produced the tragedy of Tancrede 
with the approval of a court and the applause of a people who would tole- 
rate nought but the classic drama. Little could he have dreamt that, in 
another age, in a foreign land the very territory of Shakespeare, the same 
play would fill a theatre to suffocation, a monarch and her noblesse forming 
a portion of the audience. Such a result is owing to that high order of 
genius, the attribute of Mile. Rachel, which overcomes all prejudice of time 
or country. 

Since her performance in Tancrede, Mile. Rachel has agreeably surprised 
the public by appearing in comedy ; her success has been equally striking. 
She played Celemene in the famous Misanthrope of Molire, a master- piece 
of wit and satire, from which Sheridan borrowed a great deal of his School 
for Scandal. Indeed, Lady Teazle has, in some points, a strong resemblance 
to the coquette Celemene. 

In conclusion we would observe that Mile. Rachel has been very ably 
supported by the other performers of the St. James's Theatre. Raphael 
Felix, Marius, and Mile. Rabut are artists fully capable of appreciating, 
and expressing the fine verse of the great poets of France. 

* # * Among the English theatres now open, the Hayir.arket, the Princess's, 
and the Adelphi, of course take the lead. Mrs. Nisbett at the Haymarket, 
and Madame Vestris and Mathews at the Princess's are as excellent as ever. 
The new drama of " Title Deeds" at the Adelphi is eminently successful, 
and, in truth, fully deserves to be so. 




THE collection of ancient masters contributed to this admirable insti- 
tution, for 1847, is now open, and the display proves as interesting, and 
attractive as ever. It comprises sacred pictures, historical portraits, and 
landscapes, many of which are already known to fame throughout the 
world, and may be looked on with delight, again and again, for ever. 
Rembrandt, Rubens, Vandyke, Claude, Cuyp, Vander-Heyden, Reynolds 
and Lawrence are here in all their glory. Such paintings need no com- 
ment or description : they must be viewed. 

HISTORICAL PRIZE PAINTINGS, Chinese Exhibition Room, Hyde Park 

Two years ago a public offer was made in the following terms : ONE 
THOUSAND POUNDS are hereby tendered to the Artist who shall produce the 
best OIL PAINTING of the BAPTISM OF CHRIST, by immersion in the river 
Jordan, to illustrate the statements made by the Evangelists : 

MATTHEW iii. 13 17. 

" Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptised 
of him.'' 

" But John forbad him, saying, I have need to be baptised of thee, and 
comest thou to me ?'' 

"And Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so now : for 
thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness. Then he suffered him." 

"And Jesus, when he was baptised went up straightway out of the 
water ; and lo the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit 
of God descending like a dove, and lightning upon him :" 

"And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom 
I am well pleased." 

MARK i. 9 11. 

"And it came to pass in those days, that Jesus came from Nazareth of 
Galilee, and was baptised of John in Jordan." 

"And straightway coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens 
opened, and the Spirit like a dove descending upon him :" 

" And there came a voice from heaven, saying, Thou art my beloved 
Son in whom I am well pleased." 

LUKE iii. 21 and 22. 

"Now when all the people were baptized, it came to pass, that Jesus 
also being baptized, and praying, the heaven was opened," 

" And the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape like a dove upon 
him, and a voice came from heaven which said, Thou art my beloved 
Son in thee I am well pleased." 

o 2 


And the following lines from the 1st Book of Milton's " Paradise Re- 
gained " 

' ' I saw 

The Prophet do him reverence, on him rising 
Out of the water, heaven above the clouds 
Unfold her crystal door, &c. Lines 79 85. 
Again, Line 288 

"As I rose out of the laving stream." 

" It is required that the size of the work shall be not less than 12 feefc 
by 12, nor greater than 15 feet by 12, and the two principal figures shall 
be at least as large as life; two years to be allowed for the completion 
and sending in of the pictures. The competition to be open to artists 
of all nations, and the 1000 to be paid to the successful Competitor, 
before the close of the Exhibition." 

In consequence of this announcement, several paintings were for- 
warded to the Picture Gallery, (formerly the Chinese Exhibition Room) 
Hyde Park Corner, which was fitted up at great expense for the reception 
of them. 

This exhibition which is now closed, was visited by Prince Albert, the 
nobility, and numbers of the public. 

We now refer to it, wishing to call attention to the painting 
which has actually won the prize. Before doing so, however, we 
cannot but express our satisfaction at a custom which has recently 
sprung up, and which has been most creditably fostered by the govern- 
ment ; we mean the plan of offering prizes of large value to the com- 
petition of artists. Little can people imagine the immense good that is 
done by this. Real talent is often modest and retiring to its own depres- 
sion and ruin. Unless some public encouragement be given some im- 
petus employed, it may never come forward. The mind that might 
conceive, and the hand that might perform a master piece, how fre- 
quently,alas! forwant of afield to dare in, linger and perish in obscurity. 
The simple means of offering prizes will put an end to this evil at once. 
Honour to the spirited individuals who combine to do so ! Through 
their aid, genius is unbound, and like the freed eagle, straightways soars 
into those lofty regions, the home of its aspirations. 

The present instance exemplifies what we say. Many inferior paint- 
ings of course came to this exhibition at Hyde Park Corner, but the one 
that achieved the premium is a magnificent production. It is the work 
of Mr. John Wood. This gentleman had already been successful in 
having a picture of his chosen as the altar piece at Bermondsey Church 
the beautiful painting of " the Ascension " now there and, no doubt, 
encouraged by that, he put his whole soul in the present struggle, and 
\ve do not hesitate to say that he has done a work of surpassing ex- 
cellence. The boldness of design, the depth and richness of tone and 
colour, the correctness of drawing both in the landscape and the figures, 
and the majestic aspect of the whole, mark Mr. Wood's Baptism of 
Christ as emanating from a brain profoundly impressed with know- 
ledge and appreciation of the mighty masters of the mightiest school 
the immortal painters of Italy. Much of the manner and the mind of 
Raphael Urban, and Sebastian del Piombo hang about this picture of 
the Baptism. 


To convey some idea of the grandeur of the composition, and the 
extent of Mr. Wood's labours, we give the following detailed description 
of his painting. 

The point of time chosen in his representation of Christ's Baptism is 
immediately after John has suffered Jesus to be immersed by him, just 
as he is uttering the words of administration. The Saviour of mankind 
is represented in an attitude most favourable for the ceremony, and most 
according with the practice said by travellers to be still observed at 
baptismal rites by Oriental Christians. On the right of St. John, im- 
mediately behind the Saviour, are groups representing Joseph of Ari- 
mathea, Nicodemus, Peter and Andrew ; and the more youthful figure 
of St. John the Evangelist. On the left of St. John are St. Luke, St. 
James the minor, St. Simeon, St. Matthew, St. Thomas, St. Jude and 
Judas. In the foreground are figures of persons who have just been 
baptized, or who are preparing to be so -, and in the background is seen 
a crowd of spectators. 

This painting by Mr. Wood is, or at least was recently to be seen at his 
residence in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square. We sincerely trust that 
its ultimate public destination the adornment of a metropolitan church, 
may be effected as speedily as possible. 


> ) ?m f oonnliHit. s .tj 


t blBK 



John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1847. 

IT was a happy idea of this well known and able writer, to throw into 
one small volume the actual events of the battle of Waterloo, so as 
to form a tale apart from the rest of history. In the ordinary perusal of 
the annals of the time, the reader becomes generally confused, and 
fatigued before he encounters the actual details necessarily somewhat 
lengthy of the fight at Waterloo ; nor can a person easily himself 
detach that portion of the political narrative which relates to the battle 
alone. Here, however, the difficulty is admirably removed, for, in one 
small volume, almost at one view, we have the whole memorable event 
with every circumstance attached to it laid plainly before us. What 
really adds to the value of the book is the amazing clearness and simpli- 
city of its style : a mere child might comprehend it. This is a boon of 
no small worth to civilians, when they would read about military mat- 
ters, for, in general this portion of history, if at all elaborate, becomes 
unintelligible to any but the soldier. Mr. Gleig has indeed made a 
simple story of that legend of victory, which must ring in the ears, and 
warm the blood of generation after generation, until England is no 

This account of the battle is so well knit together that it is rather 
difficult to separate any portion of it. The following extract may 
however be read with interest as describing, more minutely than usual, 
Napoleon's last day at Elba, prior to his alighting again, with the pride 
and rapidity of his own eagle, upon the land of France. 

" His favourite sister Pauline, bringing other ladies in her train, paid him a visit. 
There was much hospitality, with great apparent politeness, at the palace ; and 
much talk was held concerning the improvements which he meditated both in 
the form and size of his own residence and in the harbour and town. His 
guards also he frequently reviewed, and seemed to take as much pleasure in 
the exercise as if he had been passing a whole army before him. So passed the 
beginning of February, 1815, and on the 26th a grand entertainment was given 
iit the palace. Sir Neil Campbell, the English resident in Elba, was not there, for 
he had gone in the only cruiser that observed the coast to Leghorn : but the 
representatives of Austria and Russia were present, and marked attention was 
paid to them. Napoleon walked through the several halls, saluting his guests; 
and then, leaving the ladies to do the rest, went about his own business. His 
guards, to the number of 1100, had been directed to parade near the quay at 
three in the afternoon. They stood under arms till half-past four, when Napoleon 
joined them ; and he and they were all on board of ship by seven o'clock in the 
same evening. For this facility likewise of troubling Europe, the Allies had left 
him, that he had retained at his disposal, a flotilla more than sufficient to transport 
his troops to the Continent whenever the desire of doing so should become strong 
with him. 

'* How he bore himself during that brief voyage commanding the respect of his 
followers by the calmness and self-possession of his manner is a matter of 
history. lie felt from the moment that his foot pressed the deck that the " die 
was cast ;" and when, on baffling winds arising, and the little fleet making imper- 


feet way, it was proposed to put back to Porto Ferrajo and await a more favourable 
opportunity, he scouted the idea" Officers and soldiers of my Guard," he said, 
"we are going to France;" and the shout of enthusiasm with which the 
announcement was greeted, told how well he understood his follower?. They 
went to France. They saw a French frigate at a distance, but it neared them 
not, and they passed. Napoleon himself answered the hail from the French brig, 
which sought to be informed how it fared with the exile of Elba ; and finally he 
and all his people made good their landing on the beach of the gulf of St. Juan, 
just as the topmasts of the vessels from which they had descended were described 
from the quarter-deck of a British sloop of- war. So close was the run of this 
extraordinary man's fortune at the commencement of the last act in his public 
life, and so resolute the spirit which urged him to enter upon it, and to go through 
with it successfully. 

Of the actual details of the engagement, the following portion has in 
its terrible truth quite the vivid colouring, and intense attraction of 
a romance. 

" It will be necessary for a moment to look back to the proceedings of the 
Prussians, whom we left bringing their troops into action as rapidly as they could, 
and though repulsed in an attempt to take possession of Planchenoit. re-forming 
their masses and preparing again to push them on the village. It was not exclu- 
sively in this direction, however, that Bliicher strove to bring support to his 
allies. Along the Wavre road his cavalry was advancing, and gradually falling in 
on the left rear of Best's brigade, while lower down, through Smohaiu and La 
Haye, other troops, some of them infantry, showed themselves. These mate- 
rially strengthened the extreme left of the English line, and being comparatively 
fresh, soon entered into the battle. In particular the Prussian artillery proved of 
essential service, for the Hanoverian batteries in this direction had expended their 
ammunition, and, as the infantry and cavalry came up, they descended into the 
ravine, and prepared to move upon the right of the enemy's line. Thus, just at 
the moment when the English had repelled the final attack of the Imperial Guard, 
when D'Erlon's and Reille's corps were both completely disorganized, when the 
French cavalry, mowed down by the fire of infantry and cannon, were powerless 
to resist the rush which Lord Uxbridge was about to make upon them, the gallant 
Prussians came into plav, and a defeat, already achieved, was converted into anni- 
hilation ; for all means of rallying even a rear guard ceased. At the same time 
let it be borne in mind, to the honour of the French, that on the extreme right 
they still presented a firm and well-arranged front. Lobau's corps was unbroken, 
and though over-matched, it faced Billow stoutly. In Planchenoit, likewise, the 
Young Guard maintained themselves in spite of Pirch's repeated and desperate 
efforts to dislodge them : indeed, the progress made in this direction was very 
slow, for the gallant assailants purchased every foot of ground at an expense of 
life which was fearful. Still, the knowledge that he was assailed on the flank and 
well nigh in the rear could not fail of extinguishing in the mind of Napoleon 
whatever ray of hope might have yet lingered there. He cast a hurried glance 
over the field of battle. He saw his Guards coming back in wild confusion, and 
strewing the earth with their dead He looked round for his cavalry, and beheld 
but broken squadrons fleeing for life, yet failing to secure it His guns were 
either dismounted or abandoned by the artillerymen, and there was no reserve 
on which to fall back. Then it was that the terrible .words escaped him, which 
will be remembered and repeated as often as the tale of his overthrow is told . 
"Tout est pprdu sauve qui peut !" was his last order, and turning his horse's 
head, he galloped from the field." 

" It was now eight o'clock in the evening, or perhaps a little later. The phy- 
sical strength of the combatants on both sides had become well nigh exhausted, 
and on the part of the English there was a feverish desire to close with the enemy, 
and bring matters to an issue. Up to the present moment, however, the Duke 
had firmly restrained them. For all purposes of defensive warfare they were 



excellent troops ; the same blood was in their veins which had stirred their more 
veteran comrades of the Peninsula, but, as has elsewhere been explained, four- 
fifths of the English regiments were raw levies, second battalions, to manoeuvre 
with which in the presence of a skilful enemy might have been dangerous. 
Steadily therefore, and with a wise caution, the Duke held them in hand, giving 
positive orders to each of his generals that they should not follow up any tempo- 
rary success, so as to endanger the consistency of their lines, but return after 
every charge to the crest of the hill, and be content with holding that. Now, 
however, the moment was come for acting on a different principle. Not by Adam 
and Maitland alone, but by the brigades of Omteda, Pack, Kempt, and Lambert, 
the enemy had been overthrown with prodigious slaughter, and all equally panted 
to be let loose. Moreover, from minute to minute the sound of firing in the 
direction of Planchenoit became more audible. It was clear, therefore, that even 
young troops might be slipped in pursuit without much hazard to their own 
safety, and the Duke let his people go. The lines of infantry were simultaneously 
formed, the cavalry mounted and rode on, and then a cheer began on the right, 
which flew like electricity throughout the entire extent of the position. Well was 
it understood, especially by those who, on a different soil and under a warmer sun, 
had often listened to similar music. The whole line advanced, and scenes com- 
menced of fiery attack and resolute defence of charging horsemen and infantry 
stern, such as there is no power, either in pen or pencil, adequately to describe. 

*' It might savour of invidiousness were I, in dealing with this part of my sub- 
ject, to specify particular brigades or regiments, as if they more than others had 
distinguished themselves. The case was not so. Every man that day did his 
duty making allowance, of course, for the proportion of weak hearts which 
move in the ranks of every army, and seize the first favourable opportunity that 
presents itself of providing for their own safety. And probably it will not be 
received as a stain upon the character of British troops if I venture to hazard a 
conjecture, that in the army of Waterloo these were as numerous as in any which 
the Duke of Wellington ever commanded. Accident, however, and their local 
situation in the battle necessarily bring some corps more conspicuously into view 
than others, and at this stage of the fight Adam's infantry, with Vivian's hussars, 
had the good fortune to take in some sort the lead. The former followed up their 
success against the Imperial Guard with an impetuosity which nothing could 
resist. They left the whole of their dismounted comrades behind them, and 
seemed to themselves to be completely isolated, when Vivian's hussars whom 
Lord Uxbridge had ordered on, swept pass them. For there was seen on the 
rise of the enemy's ascent a body of cavalry collected, which gathered strength 
from one moment to another, and threatened ere long to become again formidable. 
It was of vital importance that it should be charged and overthrown ere time was 
given to render it the nucleus of a strong rear guard ; and against it, by the 
Duke's personal command, the hussar brigade was directed. Loudly these rivals 
in enterprise and gallantly cheered one another as the British horsemen galloped 
past, and both caught a fresh impulse from the movement. 

" Adam's brigade moved steadily on ; Maitland's marched in support of it ; 
and down from their ' mountain throne' the rest of the infantry moved in succes- 
sion. The cavalry came first into play. It was observed, as they pushed on, that 
at the bottom of the descent two squares stood in unbroken order. These were the 
battalions of the Guard which had been drawn up to support the advance of the 
French columns ; and, though, grievously incommoded by the swarms of fugi- 
tives which rushed down upon them, t'hey still kept their ranks. A portion 
of the cavalry wheeled up and faced them. It is a serious matter to charge a 
square on which no impression has been made, and probably Vivian, with all 
his chivalry, would have hesitated to try the encounter, had he not seen that 
Adam was moving towards the further face of one of these masses with the 
apparent design of falling upon it. He did not therefore hesitate to let loose a 
squadron of the 10th, which, headed by Major Howard, charged home, and 
strove, though in vain, to penetrate. The veterans of the French Guard were 
not to be broken. They received the hussars on their bayonets, cut down many 


with their fire, and succeeded in retreating in good order, though not without loss. 
Moreover, just at this moment one battery, which had escaped the general confu- 
sion, opened upon the flank of Adam's brigade, while another came galloping 
across the front of the 18th Hussars, as if seeking some position whence they in 
like manner might enfilade the line of advance which the British troops had 
taken. But these latter were instantly charged, the gunners cut down, and 
the pieces taken ; while the former soon fell into the hands of the 52nd regiment, 
which changed its front for a moment, and won the trophy. 

" Darkness now began to set in, and the confusion in the French ranks became 
so great as to involve, in some degree, the pursuers in similar disorder. The 
more advanced cavalry got so completely intermingled among crowds of fleeing 
men and horses, that they could neither extricate themselves nor deal their blows 
effectually. Moreover, as the night deepened, and the Prussians began to arrive 
at the scene of action, more than one awkward rencounter took place, which was 
with difficulty stayed. Nevertheless, the pursuit was not checked. Down their 
own slope, across the valley, up the face of the enemy's hill, and beyond the 
station of La Belle Alliance, the British line marched triumphant. They lite- 
rally walked over the dead and dying, the numbers of which they were continually 
augmenting. Guns, tumbrils, ammunition waggons, drivers the whole materiel, 
in short, of the dissolved army, remained nTtheir possession. Once or twice 
some battalions endeavoured to withstand them, and a particular corps of f grena- 
diers a cheval' contrived, amid the wreck of all around, to retain their order. 
But the battalions were charged, rolled up, and dissolved in succession, while the 
horsemen effected no higher triumph than to quit the Held like soldiers. Still the 
battle raged at Planchenoit and on the left of it, where Lobau and the Young 
Guard obstinately maintained themselves, till the tide of fugitives from the rear 
came rolling down upon them, and they too felt that all was lost. Then came 
the Prussians pouring in. Then, too, the Duke, feeling that the victory was won, 
caused the order for a general halt to be passed; and regiment by regiment 
the weary but victorious English lay down upon the position which they had won. 

" It is well known that throughout this magnificent advance the Duke was up 
with the foremost of his people. Nothing stopped him nothing stood in 
his way. He cheered on Adam's brigade, and halted beyond its front. He spoke 
to the skirmishers, and mingled with them ; till at last one of his staff ventured 
to remonstrate against the manner in which he was exposing himself. You have 
no business here, sir/ was the frank and soldier-like appeal ; ' we are getting into 
inclosed ground, and your life is too valuable to be thrown away.' ' Never mind,' 
replied the Duke ; * let them fire away. The battle's won, and my life is of no 
consequence now.' And thus he rode on, regardless of the musketry which 
whistled about him. The fact is, that though he had put a machine in motion 
which no resistance could stop, he was still determined to superintend its working 
to the last moment ; and the further the night closed in, the more determined he 
was to observe for himself whatever dispositions the enemy might have made. 
Accordingly, keeping ahead of his own line, and mingling, as has just been 
stated, with the skirmishers, he pushed on till he passed to a considerable distance 
beyond La Belle Alliance, and there satisfied himself that the route was complete. 
At last he reined up his horse, and turned him towards Waterloo. He rode, at 
this titre, well nigh alone. Almost every individual of his personal staff had 
fallen, either killed or wounded. Col. De Lancey, Quartermaster -General, was 
mortally wounded; Major-Gen. Barnes, Adjutant- General, was wounded ; Lieut.- 
Col. Lord Fitzroy Somerset, Military Secretary, ' had lost his right arm ; and of 
his Grace's Aides-de-camp two, namely, Lieut. -Col. the Honourable Alexander 
Gordon and Lieut. -Col. Canning, were both struck down. The latter died on the 
spot, the former survived his mortal hurt only long enough to learn from the 
chief whom he served and dearly loved, that the battle was going well. Indeed, 
the losses that day to England, and to the best of English blood, were terrible. 
Lord Uxbridge, as is well known, was struck by one of the last shots fired, and 
suffered amputation of the leg. Picton, the hero of a hundred fights, was gone 
whither alone his glory could follow him. But it is as useless to enumerate the 


brave who purchased with their lives this day a renown which can never perish, 
as it would be idle to attempt a description of the feelings of the survivors. 

May every one, who doats on England's fame, be he in his school, his 
manly, or his slippered days, read and re-read this story of Waterloo. 

Shores of the Danube, By a Seven Years' Resident in Greece. Chap- 
man and Hall. 186, Strand. 1847. 

WE must confess we have a predilection for an Eastern book. Let 
oriental narratives and descriptions multiply as they may, there is ever 
something new to tell, something marvellous to hear about the land of 
the cypress and myrtle. The author of the work before us has the ad- 
vantage of a long residence amid the Greeks and Turks ; and he evi- 
dently speaks with the firm tone and clear conception of one who is 
thoroughly conversant with his subject. The work contains a fund of 
entertainment and instruction. There pervades too a religious feeling 
throughout which leads to some very impressive writing about the 
present moral degradation of the Turks. The religion of the Mussul- 
man is thus deprecated : 

" Mahomedanism is hourly opening out into a new aspect before me. I had 
imagined it but a low, degraded creed, one of the numerous offsprings of prolific 
error ard ignorance, which, as a substitute for the truth that has not yet dawned 
upon them, could not have a better or a worse effect in its moral influence, on 
the great multitude, than any other vain superstition ; but from the conversation 
of those whom I meet here, and who are well qualified to judge, and from a 
closer view of its palpable working, not as seen in the history of past ages, but 
on the hearts and minds of the individuals with whom I am actually in contact 
every day, I cannot but think, that it was originally a deeply-laid scheme, carried 
out with an almost fiend-like knowledge of the human heart, for enthralling the 
people by working solely on their evil passions. Most other religions, however 
much they may have fallen from their common origin in man's instinctive con- 
sciousness of the Supreme, have at least for their ultimate aim and end the moral 
improvement of man; whereas the system of Llamism would seem in every* 
doctrine and in every law to foster and bring forth their worst propensities, pre- 
senting even the heaven for which their purer spirit is to strive under images so 
earthly, that the very hope itself degrades them to the lowest level of mankind ; 
and satisfying the conscience that goads their fallen nature to arise, with a few 
material and unmeaning observances, strong onlv in their strictness. 

" It is thus at least that Mahomedanism appears in this country ; elsewhere it 
may be, and I have heard that it is, otherwise ; a religion not divine must neces- 
sarily have different results according to the character and peculiarities of the 
people on whom it acts, like the practical working of any other system. Assur- 
edly it has found here a fair field, if its object were to brutalize the people and 
paralyse their higher faculties ; for I become daily more convinced than in none 
have the last traces of that image in which man was created been more utterly 
effaced than in the Turks, notwithstanding the strong prepossession in favour of 
this people which exists in Europe, and which I fully shared till I found myself 
face to face with them in their own country, and in their true colours." 

Some of the writer's adventures are related with much ani nation. 
The following account of a stormy night on the Black Sea is well 
'told : 

" We were destined, however, to a yet more unfavourable reception. As we 
got fairly out of sight of land, every thing grew ominous of coming warfare. 
Just at nightfall a vivid flash of lightning suddenly tore asunder the huge black 
curtain which seemed to hang motionless against the sky, and from the vast rent 


the liberated tempest came thundering forth, all fire and fury, and rushed howling 
over the agitated sea, maddening the convulsed waters till spray, and foam, and 
rain, became one wild confusion, and our little vessel shook and shivered as the 
billows wreathed themselves around it, and dashed down raging on its deck. A 
scene more fiercely desolate could not well be conceived ; the mournful howling 
of the wind, and the roaring of the ocean, whose breast it was tearing up, made a 
savage music altogether which was as awful as it was sublime ; and the violent 
pitching of the ship rendered it scarce possible to distinguish the black flying 
rack above from the yet blacker mass of surge below When matters came to 
this crisis, of course all went below, excepting the motionless Turks ; and cer- 
tainly if the storm were sublime above, it was most ludicrous in its eflfects down 
stairs. There was a continued and involuntary polka dancing on the part of the 
most sedate passengers, chairs and tables careering frantically to and fro with a 
confused din, consisting of lamentations in Turkish, anathemas in Greek, angry 
mutterings of misery in French, abrupt and comprehensible groans in German, 
and over all the piteous voice of Kentucky, giving a pretty good guess that he 
had never been so wretched before. 

" From the ladies' cabin (which I entered head foremost, after having been 
thrown down stairs by one lurch of the vessel, violently flung under the table in 
the saloon by another, and jerked out again before any one had time to help me), 
every article of furniture had been removed ; and mingled invocations to St. 
Nicholas and the prophet, rose from various agitated heaps in the several corners. 
After knocking my head on the four sides of the room, I was precipitated iiito a 
berth, where I was destined to pass the night, clinging to the wall lest I should 
fall out, and be compelled to continue this violent exercise. 

" The storm never abated during the interminable hours, till daylight, and al- 
though I do not suppose any one slept in the whole vessel, the sufferers at last 
became quite passive, and nothing was to be heard but an occasional groan ; di- 
rectly below me, an unfortunate lady was extended on a mattress on the floor, 
which was inlaid with polished wood ; every time the vessel rolled, the mattress 
and its burden slid down the room to the opposite wall, where the lady received 
a violent blow on the head, and then, as the ship righted again, returned slowly 
to their place. There was a species of fascination in this slow torture, which 
occupied me the whole night ; and such was the state to which we were all re- 
duced, that although the lady who thus helplessly acted the part of a living 
pendulum, was my own mother, I lay composedly watching her sail away to the 
other side, and waited till she should come back and knock her head, without 
even making an effort to relieve her. Daylight brought no improvement in our 
position, and I alone had strength enough left to creep up on deck. I managed 
to crawl round to offer my assistance to the inmates of the respective berths 
before I left the room ; but I received no other answer from any, than an entreaty 
that I would put a speedy termination to their existence. I could not adopt so 
violent a measure, though I felt that my own demise would have been a relief, 
so I left them to their miseries, and with much difficulty crept up on deck, where 
I was dragged to a pile of cushions laid out for me by a sailor, and there I sunk 
to move no more all day, catching a glimpse in my passage across the deck of the 
compact mass of turbans waving to and fro, with an instinctive consciousness 
that each individual Turk was sea-sick. 

" The scene was not the less dreary that the light of day had risen over it, 
'and a cold, piercing blast shriek most dismally among the sails, which they had 
vainly put up to try and steady the sh p. Throughout the whole of that long day 
it continued thus. None of the other passengers came from below, and as I lay 
half asleep, half awake, on the deck, every now and then the scenes we had been 
in the midst of, only yesterday, rose up before me ; the golden city sparkling in 
sunshine, the bird peopled gardens, the soft rippling waters; till a great cold 
wave, plunging into the vessel, and drenching me with foam, recalled me to the con- 
trasted reality, and showed me the black, boiling sea, and wild tempestuous sky. 

11 In the afternoon, we lay to for half an hour, opposite to the town of Varna, 
so celebrated in the Balkan war, as having stood a siege of six mouths against an 
enormous Russian force. It is so stormy a roadstead that I could only obtain a 
glimpse of it by clinging to the side of the ship for a few minutes as we reeled 


to and fro, but this cursory glance was sufficient to show me so poor and 
wretched-looking a town, that I could not conceive how a single troop of cavalry 
should not have been sufficient to demolish it at once ; yet I am told that this 
immense army, which though it sustained considerable loss in the march across 
the Balkan, had yet an enormous force, sat down before it for many months. 

" There were several Russian vessels lying round us, with all their rigging 
seemingly in the trimmest order, but I knew how far to trust to the flourishing 
appearance which Russia gives to all her naval appurtenances, from a little cir- 
cumstance which occurred not long since in Athens. We had gone on board of a 
Russian corvette, and had greatly admired, not only the neatness and order 
everywhere displayed, but the attention which seemed to be bestowed on the 
comfort of the sailors, as their neat hammocks were all ranged round the deck 
just as in an English ship. Shortly after, a Russian lady, a friend of ours, went 
a voyage in this same ship, and returned long before the time she had originally 
intended, because she was so utterly disgusted with the misery and ill-treatment 
of the unfortunate crew. The hammocks were a mere sham got up for show, 
and her description of the want of cleanliness and comfort, and the barbarous 
punishments daily administered, was most dreadful. The wind became favour- 
able as soon as we left Varna, but the night was not the less tempestuous ? and I 
was very glad there was nothing to be seen before the darkness set in, as it was 
quite impossible to stand upright. 

This volume is a valuable addition to the many, but not too many 
books already written about the East. 

Translated by MARY HOWITT. Longman & Co. 1847. 

A DELIGHTFUL little book, written with the whole fine soul, and sterling 
sentiment of that excellent author, Andersen the Dane. The transla- 
tion, like indeed all those of Mrs. Howitt, is most gracefully done. She 
thus dedicates the work : 

"To JENNY LIND, the English Translation of the True Story of her Friend's 
Life is inscribed in admiration of her beautiful talents and still more beautiful 
life, by MARY HOWITT. 

We pass at once over the other parts of this interesting book, to 
present from it the following account of the Swedish Nightingale, which 
must prove acceptable to every reader : 

" At this period of my life, I made an acquaintance which was of great moral 
and intellectual importance to me. I have already spoken of several persons and 
public characters who have had influence on me as the poet ; but none of these 
have had more, nor in a nobler sense of the word, than the lady to whom I here 
turn myself; she, through whom I, at the same time, was enabled to forget my 
own individual self, to feel that which is holy in art, and to become acquainted 
with the command which God has given to genius. 

" I now turn back to the year 1840. One day in the hotel in which I lived in 
Copenhagen, I saw the name of Jenny Lind among those of the strangers from 
Sweden. I was aware at that time that she was the first singer in Stockholm. I 
had been that same year, in this neighbour country, and had there met with hon- 
our and kindness : I thought, therefore, that it would not be unbecoming in me 
to pay a visit to the young artist. She was, at this time, entirely unknown out of 
Sweden, so that I was convinced that, even in Copenhagen, her name was know 
only by a few. She received me very courteously, but yet distantly, almost 
coldly. She was, as she said, on a journey with her father to South Sweden, and 
was come over to Copenhagen for a few days in order that she might see this 
city. We again parted distantly, and I had the impression of a very ordinary 
character which soon passed away from my mind. 

" In the autumn of 1843, Jenny Lind came again to Copenhagen. One of my 



friends, our cleverjballet-m aster, Bournonville, who has married a Swedish lady, 
a friend of Jenny Lind, informed me of her arrival here and told me that she re- 
membered me very kindly, and that now she had read my writings. He entreated 
me to go with him to her, and to employ all my persuasive art to induce her to 
take a few parts at the Theatre Royal ; I should, he said, be then quite enchanted 
with what I should hear. 

" I was not now received as a stranger ; she cordially extended to me her hand, 
and spoke of my writings and of Miss Fredrika Bremer, who also was her affec- 
tionate friend. The conversation was soon turned to her appearance in Copen- 
hagen, and of this Jenny Lind declared that she stood in fear. 

" ' I have n*ver made my appearance/ said she, ' out of Sweden; every body 
in my native land is so affectionate and kind to me, and if 1 made my appearance 
in Copenhagen and should be hissed ! I dare not venture on it !' 

" I said, that I, it was true, could not pass judgment on her singing, because I 
had never heard it, neither did I know how she acted, but nevertheless I was con- 
vinced that such was the disposition at this moment in Copenhagen, that only a 
moderate voice and some knowledge of acting would be successful ; I believed 
that she might safely venture. 

" BoumonviUe's persuasion obtained for the Copenhageners the greatest en- 
joyment which they ever had. 

" Jenny Lind made her first appearance among them as Alice in Robert le 
Diable it was like a new revelation in the realms of art, the youthfully fresh 
voice forced itself into every heart ; here reigned truth and nature ; every thing 
was full of meaning and intelligence. At one concert Jenny Lind sang her 
Swedish songs ; there was something so peculiar in this, so bewitching ; people 
thought nothing about the concert room ; the popular melodies uttered by a 
being so purely feminine, and bearing the universal stamp of genius, exercised 
their omnipotent sway the whole of Copenhagen was in raptures. Jenny Lind 
was the first singer to whom the Danish students gave a serenade : torches blazed 
around the hospitable villa where the serenade was given : she expressed her 
thanks by again singing some Swedish songs, and I then saw her hasten into the 
darkest corner and weep for emotion. 

" * Yes, yes/ said she, * I will exert myself; I will endeavour, I will be better 
qualified than I am when I again come to Copenhagen.' 

" On the stage, she was the great artiste, who rose above, all those around her ; 
at home, in her own chamber, a sensitive young girl with all the humility and 
piety of a child. 

" Her appearance in Copenhagen made an epoch in the history of our opera ; 
it showed me art in its sanctity I had beheld one of its vestals. She journeyed 
back to Stockholm, and from there Fredrika Bremer wrote to me : ' With re- 
gard to Jenny Lind as a singer, we are both of us perfectly agreed ; she stands 
as high as any artist of our time can stand ; but as yet you do not know her iu her 
full greatness.j Speak to her about her art, and you will wonder at the expansion of 
her mind, and will see her countenance beaming with inspiration. Converse then 
with her of God, and of the holiness of religion, and you will see tears in those 
innocent eyes ; she is great as an artist, but she is still greater in her pure human 
existence !' 

" In the following year I was in Berlin ; the conversation with Meyerbeer 
turned upon Jenny Lind ; he had heard her sing the Swedish songs and was 
transported by them. 

" ' But how does she act ?' asked he. 

" I spoke in raptures of her acting, and gave him at the same time some idea 
of her representation of Alice. He said to me that perhaps it might be possible 
for him to determine her to come to Berlin. 

" It is sufficiently well known that she made her appearance there, threw every 
one into astonishment and delight, and won for herself in Germany a European 
name. Last autumn she came again to Copenhagen, and the enthusiasm was in- 
credible ; the glory of renown makes genius perceptible to every one. People 
bivouacked regularly before the theatre, to obtain a ticket. Jenny Lind appeared 
still greater than ever in her art, because they had an opportunity of seeing her 


in many and such extremely different parts. Her Norma is plastic ; every atti- 
tude might serve as the most beautiful model to a sculptor, and yet people felt 
that these were the inspiration of the moment, and had not been studied before 
the glass. Norma is no raving Italian ; she is the suffering, sorrowing woman 
the woman possessed of a heart to sacrifice herself for an unfortunate rival the 
woman to whom, in the violence of the moment, the thought may suggest itself 
of murdering the children of a faithless lover, but who is immediately disarmed 
when she gazes into the eyes of the innocent ones. 

" ( Norma, thou holy priestess,' sings the chorus, and Jenny Lind has com- 
prehended and shows to us this holy priestess in the aria, Casta diva. In Copen- 
hagen she sang all her parts in Swedish, and the other singers sang theirs in 
Danish, and the two kindred languages mingled very beautifully together ; there 
was no jarring; even in the Daughter of the Regiment, where there is a deal of 
dialogue, the Swedish had something agreeable and what acting ! nay, the word 
itself is a contradiction it was nature ; anything as true never before appeared 
on the stage. She shows us perfectly the true child of nature grown up in the 
camp, but an inborn nobility pervades every movement. The Daughter of the 
Regiment and the Somnambule are certainly Jenny Lind's most unsurpassable 
parts; no second can take their places in these beside her. People laugh, they 
cry ; it does them as much good as going to church ; they become better for it. 
People feel that God is in art ; and where God stands before us face to face there 
is a holy church. 

" ' There will not in a whole century,' said Mendelssohn, speaking to me of 
Jenny Lind, e be born another being so gifted as she ;' and his words expressed 
my full conviction ; one feels as she makes her appearance on the stage, that she 
is a pure vessel, from which a holy draught will be presented to us. 

" There is not any thing which can lessen the impression which Jenny Lind's 
greatness on the stage makes, except her own personal character at home. An 
intelligent and child-like disposition exercises here its astonishing power; she is 
happy ; belonging, as it were, no longer to the world, a peaceful, quiet home, is 
the object of her thoughts and yet she loves art with her whole soul, and feels 
her vocation in it. A noble, pious disposition like hers cannot be spoiled by 
homage. On one occasion only did I hear her express her joy in her talent and 
her self-consciousness. It was during her last residence in Copenhagen. Almost 
every evening she appeared either .in the opera or at concerts ; every hour was in 
requisition. She heard of a society, the object of which was, to assist unfortu- 
nate children, and to take them out of the hands of their parents by whom they 
were misused, and compelled either to beg or steal, and to place them in other 
and better circumstances. Benevolent people subscribed annually a small sum 
each for their support, nevertheless the means for this excellent purpose were small. 

" ' But have I not still a disengaged evening ?' said she ; * let me give a night's 
performance for the benefit of these poor children ; but we will have double 
prices !' 

" Such a performance was given, and returned large proceeds ; when she was 
informed of this, and, that by this means, a number of poor children would be 
benefited for several years, her countenance beamed, and the tears filled her eyes. 

" ' It is however beautiful/ said she, ' that I can sing so !' 

" I value her with the whole feeling of a brother, and I regard myself as happy 
that I know and understand such a spirit. God give to her that peace, that quiet 
happiness which she wishes for herself ! 

" Through Jenny Lind I first became sensible of the holiness there is in art ; 
through her I learned that one must forget oneself in the service of the Supreme. 
No books, no men have had a better or a more ennobling influence on me as the 

Ct, than Jenny Lind, and I therefore have spoken of her so long and so warmly 

It is rather singular that the author also describes another acquain- 
tance, no less a person than Mademoiselle Rachel, whose genius, 
as well as that of Jenny Lind happens just now to have shed its bril- 
liant influence over the metropolis. 


" I also have to thank him for my acquaintance with Rachel. I had not seen 
her act, when Alexander Dumas asked me whether I had the desire to make her 
acquaintance. One evening, when she was to come out as Phedra he led me to 
the stage of the Theatre Francais. The representation had begun, and behind 
the scenes, where a folding screen had formed a sort of room, in which stood a 
table with refreshments, and a few ottomans, sate the young girl who, as an author 
has said, understands how to chisel living statues out of Racine's and Corneille's 
blocks of marble. She was thin and slenderly formed, and looked very young. 
She looked to me there, and more particularly so afterwards in her own house, as 
an image of mourning ; as a young girl who has just wept out her sorrow, and 
will now let her thoughts repose in quiet. She accosted us kindly in a deep 
powerful voice. In the course of conversation with Dumas, she forgot me. I 
stood there quite superfluous. Dumas observed it, said something handsome of 
me, and on that I ventured to take part in the discourse, although I had a de- 
pressing feeling that I stood before those who perhaps spoke the most beautiful 
French in all France. I said that I truly had seen much that was glorious and 
interesting, but that I never yet had seen a Rachel, and that on her account 
especially had I devoted the profits of my last work to a journey to Paris ; and 
as, in conclusion, I added an apology on account of my French, she smiled and 
said, * When you say any thing so polite as that which you have just said to me, 
to a Frenchwoman, she will always think that you speak well.' 

" When I told her that her fame had resounded to the North, she declared that 
it was her intention to go to Petersburgh and Copenhagen ; f and when I come 
to your city/ she said, ' you must be my defender, as you are the only one there 
whom I know ; and in order that we may become acquainted, and as you, as 
you say, are come to Paris especially on my account, we must see one another 
frequently. You will be welcome to me. I see my friends at my house every 
Thursday. But duty calls/ said she, and offering us her hand, she nodded kindly, 
and then stood a few paces from us on the stage, taller, quite different, and with 
the expression of the tragic muse herself. Joyous acclamations ascended to where 
we sate. 

" As a Northlander I cannot accustom myself to the French mode of acting 
tragedy. Rachel plays in this same style, but in her it appears to be nature it- 
self; it is as if all the others strove to imitate her. She is herself the French 
tragic muse, the others are only poor human beings. When Rachel plays people 
fancy that all tragedy must be acted in this manner. It is in her truth and nature, 
but under another revelation to that with which we are acquainted in the north. 

"At her house every thing is rich and magnificent, perhaps too recherche. The 
innermost room was blue- green, with shaded lamps and statuettes of French 
authors. In the salon, properly speaking, the colour which prevailed principally 
in the carpets, curtains, and bookcases was crimson. She herself was dressed in 
black, probably as she is represented in the well-known English steel engraving 
of her. Her guests consisted of gentlemen, for the greater part artists and men 
of learning. I also heard a few titles amongst them. Richly apparelled servants 
announced the names of the arrivals : tea was drunk and refreshments handed 
round, more in the German than the French style. 

" Victor Hugo had told me that he found she understood the German lan- 
guage. I asked her, and she replied in German, " ich kann es lesen ; ich bin ja 
in Lothringen geboren ; ich habe deutsche Biicher, sehn Sie hier !' and she 
showed me Grillparzer's ' Sappho/ and then immediately continued the conversa- 
tion in French. She expressed her pleasure in acting the part of Sappho, and 
then spoke of Schiller's ' Maria Stuart/ which character she has personated in a 
French version of that play. I saw her in this part, and she gave the last act 
especially with such a composure and tragic feeling, that she might have been 
one of the best of German actresses ; but it was precisely in this very act that 
the French liked her least. 

" * My countrymen/ said she, ' are not accustomed to this manner, and in this 
manner alone can the part be given. No one should be raving when the heart is 
almost broken with sorrow, and when he is about to take an everlasting farewell 
of his friends.' 


" Her drawing-room was, for the most part, decorated with books \vhicb were 
splendidly bound and arranged in handsome book-cases behind glass A paint- 
ing hung on the wall, which represented the interior of the theatre in London, 
where she stood forward on the stage, and flowers and garlands were thrown to 
her across the orchestra. Below this picture hung a pretty little book-shelf, 
holding what I call ' the high nobility among the poets/ Goethe, Schiller, Cal- 
deron, Shakspeare, &c. 

" She asked me many questions respecting Germany and Denmark, art, and 
the theatre; and she encouraged me with a kind smile around her grave mouth, 
when I stumbled in French and stopped for a moment to collect myself, that I 
might not stick quite fast. 

" ' Only speak/ said she. ' It is true that you do not speak French well. I 
have heard many foreigners speak my native language better ; but their conver- 
sation has not been nearly as interesting as yours. I understand the sense of 
your words perfectly, and that is the principal thing which interests me in you.' 

" The last time we parted she wrote the following words in my album : ' L'art 
c'est le vrai ! J'espere que cet aphorisme ne semblera pas paradoxal a un ecri- 
vain si distingue comme M. Andersen/ 

at Cologne. 

To TRAVELLERS, and many will be travellers now, this pamphlet-shaped 
book affords a fund of information upon German railways. Evidently the 
production of mine host of the famous hotel of the " Grand Monarque" 
at Aachen, he, of course holds forth his own hostelry to public approbation ; 
yet as the following account may prove really useful, we do not hesitate 
to extract it : 

" Aix-la-Chapelle, founded by Charlemagne, famous for the efficacy of its 
mineral waters, as well as for the loveliness of its neighbourhood, affords so 
agreeable a sojourn to the traveller, that he would regret, not to have spent at 
least one day there. As there are every day five trains for Cologne and four for 
Belgium, travellers who are in a hurry, may on their arrival at twelve o'clock see 
the curiosities of the town before a quarter past one ; when an excellent table 
d'hote is served at Mr. Dremel's Hotel du grand Monarque ; there is another table 
d'hote at five o'clock, with the best attendance. Travellers, who arrive in the after- 
noon, tired by a long railroad journey, may pass a most delightful evening at Aix- 
la-Chapelle. After the table d'hote at five o'clock, the Louisberg, a hill, about an 
English mile far from the town, is the rendezvous of all foreigners. From the lofty 
terraces of the castle, which is built in the modern style, the most magnificent view 
of the town and its picturesque neighbourhood charms the visitor's eye. Good 
roads pass through the whole park, which is shaded by trees, and offers every induce- 
ment for walking, or driving and riding. A band plays there every day. On Thurs- 
day, there is great assembly and concert by the military band. It is not unusual to 
see two thousand visitors circulate in the spacious saloons, galleries and charming 
forests of the Louisberg. 

''Through all the season a Balpare is given every Saturday night at the grand 
Redoute ; every night grand opera or concert, either at the theatre, or in the 
large saloons of the society called Erholuny ; or at the salle of the'grand Redoute, 
the pure and grand style of which is justly admired by all travellers. 

" Every evening there are supper a la carte and concert at the Hotel du p grand 
Monarque. After supper, society meets again at the Redoute, where Trente and 
Quarante and Roulette is played. An elegant reading room, with all German, 
English, French, Belgian and Dutch papers, affords entertainment to the visitors. 
A fine garden belonging to this establishment is a favourite walking-place, where 
shelter is to be found under covered galleries, during rainy weather. 

"Concerts, balls, festivals of all kind, follow without interruption. From seven 


to eight every morning the band plays at the Elisenbrunen, usual gathering place 
for drinkers of mineral waters. The military band plays at noon at the theatre 
square. The cathedrale, the hotel de ville are monuments of the time of Charle- 
magne, and number amongst the most remarkable edifices on the borders of the 

DIRECTIONS FOR PLAIN KNITTING : with additions and corrections for 
the working Classes and Schools. By RACHEL, JANE CATTLOW. Third 
Thousand. Darton and Clarke, Adams and Co:, London. Hyde and 
Crewe, Newcastle under Lyme, 1847". 

EVERY lady, who has the gracefnl and time-honoured taste of Penelope 
should favour this little hut valuable publication. We of course are not pro- 
fessed in the ancient mystery and most useful handicraft of knitting ; but 
the least learned on the subject may perceive the intrinsic merits of this 
pleasing production. Its sale has, too, already reached a third thousand 
a strong proof of its ability ; it fully deserves to number thousands 
and thousands to come, for one feature of it is that it adapts itself to the 
working classes, and in these industrious days, no cottager ought to be 
without it. How many ladies now vie with each other in ornamental 
work, and, armed with their needles, perform wonders in the pro- 
duction of fanciful decoration. They too may not deem a little knitting 
unworthy their attention, though of plain and homely character, for its 
utility is great indeed. To them this book will be of service also. 

We touch not on its feminine contents, further than extracting the 
following quaint address with which the skilful lucubration commences ; 


" 'Tis seventy years, or thereabouts, 

Since I was taught to knit ; 
And on a cricket I was placed 

By our good dame to sit. 

My needles were of wire that bent, 

Not like your steel so polished ; 
And to my frock a sheath was pinned, 

Which now is quite abolished. 

A bit of worsted served my turn, 

Which twirled and twisted sadly ; 
Strutt's good brown cotton, in those days, 

Would have been hailed most gladly. 

Now your old dame gives this advice 

To the rising generation, 
That, whilst children are young, they learn to knit, 

Whatever may be their station. 

I think, if you will give good heed 

To the following explanations, 
You'll find that your stockings, and socks, and gloves 

Will answer your expectations." 




Allfrey, Mrs. Frederick Wra. of a dau. 19th June. 
Anson, Mrs. wife of the Rev. T. Anchitel Anson, 

of a dau. 2nd July. 
Ark wright, Mrs. Edward, of a dau. at Cliffe House, 

Warwick, llth July. 
Ashmore, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Paul Ashmore, of 

a son, at Nottingham House, Eltham, 5th July. 
Atkinson, Mrs, wife of Robt. James Atkinson, Esq. 

Assistant Surgeon of Bengal Light Cavalry, of a 

dau. at Cawnpore, 2nd May. 

Austen, Mrs. Fred. Lewis, of a dau. at Hyde Park- 
square, 19th June. 
Aylward, Mrs. A. F. of a dau. at Chesham Vicarage, 

6th July. 
Barlow, Mrs. wife of the late George Barne Barlow, 

Esq. of a son, at Great George-street, Westmin- 
ster, 19th June. 
Beaumont, Mrs. John, of a dau. at West Hill, 

Putney, 9th July. 
Bedale, Mrs. John, of a dau. at Clapham New Park, 

19th July. 

Bell, Mrs. Jacob, of a dau. at Hull, 20th June. 
Bergman, Mrs. John George, of a dau. at Formosa, 

Cookham, Berks, l6th July. 
Best, Mrs. H. P. of a son, at the Castle House, 

Donnington, Newbury, 27th June. 
Birchall, Mrs. wife of Win, H. Birchall, Esq. of a 

son and heir at Burley Grange, Leeds, 18th July. 
Black, Mrs. wife of Patrick Black, Esq. M.D. of a 

son, in Bedford Square, 22nd June. 
Blakesley, Mrs. of a son, at Ware Vicarage. Herts, 

8th Julyc 

Bogie, Mrs. of Rosemount, co. Ayr, of a son, 1st July. 
Bonner, Mrs. Charles F. of a son, at Spaldin&r, 

4th July. 
Bowyer, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Wentworth Bowyer, 

of a dau. at Edinburgh, 16th July. 
Braithwaite, Mrs. Isaac, of Mechlenburgh Square, 

of a sou, 18th July. 

Bridgman, Mrs. Frances O. H. of a dau. at Mu- 
nich, 29th June. 
Bristow, Mrs. of a dau. at Brotmore Park, Wilts, 

16th July. 
Brown, Mrs. John, of a son, at Marlborough, Wilts, 

18th June. 
Bryant, Mrs. Walter, of a dau. at Bathurst-street, 

13th July. 
Brymer, Mrs. John, of a son, at Burgate House, 

Hants, 1 6th July. 
Butler, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Weeden Butler, of a 

dau. at the Vicarage, Wickham-market, Suffolk, 

13th July. 
Butler, Mrs. Walter, of a dau. at Maida-hill, 20th 

Campbell, Mrs. Walter F. of Islay, of a dau. at 

Edinburgh, 20th July. 
Carey, Mrs. Adolphus F. of a son, at Burbage Hinck- 

ley, co. Leicester, 18th July. 
Cavendish, the Hon. Mrs. Richard, of a dau. 3rd 

Chapman, Mrs. George, of a son, at Arundel-street. 

14th July. 

Coape, Mrs. James, of a dau. at Mirables, Isle of 

Wight, 1st July. 
Clarke, Mrs. H. B. of St. John's Wood Road, of a 

son, 30th June. 
Collet, Mrs. wife of the Rev. W. Lloyd Collet, A.M. 

of a dau. 3rd July. 

Compton, Lady Wm. of a dau. 1st July. 
Corbett, Mrs. Edward, of a dau. at Longnor Hall, 

Salop, 1st July. 
Cotton, Mrs. wife of the Rev. George Cotton, of a 

son, at Rugby, 29th June. 
Cox, Mrs. wife of the Rev. J. M. Cox, of a son, 'at 

East Stoke Rectory, l?th June. 
Crokat, Mrs. Charles, of a dau. at Albion-street, 

Hyde Park, 21st June. 
Crowdy, Mrs. G. F. of a son, at Farringdon, 2nd 

Cumming- Gordon, Mrs. Alex. P. of Altyne, of a 

son, loth June. 
Dacres, Mrs. wife of Captain Sydney C. Dacres, 

R. N. of a son, 17th July. 
Dale, Mrs. wife of the Rev. H. Dale, of a dau. at 

Blackheath, 4th July. 

Dallas, the Hon. Lady, of a son, 14th July. 
Dalrymple, Mrs. Elphinston, of a dau. at West 

Hall, co. Aberdeen, 17th July. 
Daniel, Mrs. wife of Dr. Wythe Daniel of Park 

House, Southall, of a dau. 3rd July. 
Day, Mrs. John, of a dau. at Newick Lodge, IQth 

Deane, Mrs. Francis Henry, of a dau. at Westborne 

Villas, 4th July. 
Dent, Mrs. Thomas of Hyde Park-terrace, of a dau. 

9th July. 

Donaldson, Mrs. W. Leverton, of a son, 15th July. 
Echalaz, Mrs. Fred. A. of a dau. 12th July. 
Eck, Mrs. F. A. of a dau. at Valparaiso, 15th Apl. 
Edmunds, Mrs wife of E. Edmunds, jun., Esq. of 

Bradford, Wilts, of a dau. 13th July. 
Farquhar, Lady Mary, of a dau. 13th July. 
Faulconer, Mrs. Thomas, of a dau. at Westbourne- 

terrace, llth July. 
Fletcher, Mrs. James, of a dau. at Chester Square. 

29th June, 
Forrest, Mrs- wife of James Archibald Forrest, Esq. 

5th Fusileers, of a dau. 30th June. 
Fowler, Mrs. wife of Lieut. G. C. Fowler, R.N. of 

a son, at Woolwich, 21st July. 
Francis, Mrs. S. R. Green, of a son, at Cranharn 

Place, Easex, 19th July. 

Frederick, Mrs. Major General, of a son, at Shaw- 
ford, near Winchester, 15th July. 
Freebaim, Mrs. J. C. of a son, atBoath near Naine, 

14th June. 
Freeman, Mrs. Williams, of a son, at Fawley Court, 

20th June. 
Gaije, the Hon. Mrs. of a dau. at Whitehall Yard, 

9Jh July. 
Gallini, Mrs. wife of A. Gallini, Esq. of a son at 

Donnington Castle Cottage, 10th July. 
Gamble, Mrs. wife of Dr. Gamble, of a son,' 2nd 




Giles, Mrs. James, of a son, at Haling Park, Croy 

don, 17th July. 
Gladstone, Mrs. William, of a dau, at Fitzroy-park, 

Highgate. 17th July. 
Godby, Mrs. wife of the Rev. C. H. Godby, 2nd 


Griffin, Mrs. Alfred, of a son, 2nd July. 
Gunnel), Mrs. Burgess, of a son, at Hanwell, 8th 


Hamilton, the Lady Claude, of a dau., 3rd July. 
Hamilton, Mrs. wife of the Rev. W. K. Hamilton, 

M.A. of a son, 7th July. 
Harden, Mrs. wife of the Rev. J. W. Harden, of a 

dau. 23d June. 

Harford, Mrs. C. R. jun., of a son. 18th June. 
Haygarth, Mrs. J. S. of a son, at Redmaston Rec 

tory, near Cirencester, 9th July. 
Hewitt, Mrs. B. B. of a son at Weymouth-street, 

22nd July. 
Holden, Mrs. Edward A. of Aston Hall, co. Derby 

of a son, 27th June. 

Holden, the Hon. Mrs. Drury, of a son, 1st July. 
Holland, Mrs, Henry Lancelot, of a dau. 5th July. 
Hopper, Mrs. wife of the Rev. E. H. Hopper, of a 

dau. at Old Windsor, 26th June. 
Home, Mrs. H, of Montague Sq., of a son, 7th July. 
Hughes, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Henry Hughes, of 

a son, at Gordon Street, 21st July. 
Irvine, Mrs. wife of Lt. Col. Irvine, C. B. of a son, 

at Kensington, 2nd July. 
Jenner, Mrs. Edward F. of a son, at Lowndes St. 

25th June. 
Johnson, Mrs. Henry, of a dau. at Woodford, 

Essex, 19th July. 

Jones, Mrs. D. of Pontglase and Penlar, co. Car- 
marthen, of a dau. at Baden, 16th July. 
Kennaway, Mrs. wife of the Rev. C. E. Kennaway, 

of a son, 3rd July. 

Kennedy, Mrs. Langford, of a son, 1st July. 
King, Mrs. Charles, of a son, at New Cottage 

Farm, near Potter's-bar, 17th July. 
Kerby, Mrs. George Goldsmith, of a son, at Ken- 
sington, 22d June. 
Kuper, Mrs. the wife of Capt. Kuper. C.B. R.N. of 

a son, 27th June. 
Langmore, Mrs. wife of J. C. Langmore, M.B. of 

a dau. 8th July. 

Lee, Mrs. G. Maclean, of a dau. at Esher, 7th July. 
Lee, Mrs. Valentine, of a son, 2nd June. 
Lewis, Mrs. Edward, of a son, 15th July. 
Lewis, Mrs. Henry, of a son and heir, at Pant- 

gwynlas, co. Glamorgan, 21st July. 
Little, Mrs. Thomas Selby, of a son, at Worcester, 

17th July. 
Lovett, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Robert Lovett, of a 

dau. 19th July. 
Macleane, Mrs. wife of the Rev. A. J. Macleane, 

of a dau. at Brighton, 20th July. 
Mansfield, Mrs. J. of a dau. at St. Mark's Parson- 
age, Swindon, 3rd July. 
Martin, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Chancellor Martin, of 

twins, a son and a dau. the latter survived only a 

short time, at the Close, Exeter, 5th July. 
Marryatt, Mrs. Horace, of a son, at Hampton Court 

Palace, 18th July. 
Milward, Mrs. George, of a son,|at the Manor House, 

Lechlade, 3d July. 
Mitchell, Mrs. John, of Forcett Hall, co. York, of a 

son and heir, 12th July. 
Montrose, the Duchess of, of a son and heir, 22nd 

Murdoch, Mrs. wife of Clinton Murdoch, Esq. of a 

dau. 6th July. 
Newington, Mrs. wife of C. E. Hayes Newington, 

M.D. of a son, 12th July. 

Newton, Mrs. Charles, of a son and heir, at Dais- 
ton, 25th June. 
Noad, Mrs. David Innes, of a son, at Herne Hill, 

12th July. 
Norton, Mrs. Henry E. of a son, at Woburn Sq. 

21st June. 
Ogilvie, Jlrs. wife of G. M. Ogilvie, Esq. of a dau. 

at Kensington Garden Terrace, gth July. 

j Palmer, Mrs. J. Carrington, of a son, 7th July. 
Peacock, Mrs. Anthony, of a son, at Ranceby Hall, 

co. Lincoln, 13th July. 

Pearse.Mrs. John, of a dau. at Dunstable, 2lst June. 
Pennant, the Lady Louisa Douglas, of a dau. 13th 

Petley, Mrs. Charles R. C. of a dau. at Riverhead, 

Seven Oaks, 15th July. 
Peto, Mrs. S. Morton, of a dau. 26th June. 
Phipps, Mrs. wife of Lt. Col. the Hon. C. B. Phipps, 

of a son, 14th July. 
Place, Mrs. wife of Lionel R. Place, Esq. R.N. of 

a son, 10th July. 

Playfair, Mrs. Lyon, of a dau. at Barnes, 8th July. 
Plunkett, Mrs. James, of a son, at Tavistock Square, 

6th July. 
Ricardo, Mrs. Percy, of a dau. at Westborne Cres 

cent, 24th June. 
Robertson, Mrs. wife of Capt. J. E. Robertson, 

6th Royal Regt., of a son. 24th June. 
Robertson, Mrs. E. L. of a son, at Norfolk Cres- 
cent, 24th June. 

Robinson, Mrs. W. S. of a dau. at Dyrham Rec- 
tory, Gloucestershire, llth July. 
Russell, Mrs. wife of the Rev. A. B. Russell, of a 

son, at the Vicarage, Wells, llth July. 
Salt, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Joseph Salt, of a son, 

at Standon Rectory, 29th June. 
Saxton, Mrs. Edward, of a dau. at Highbury Park, 

18th June. 
Sheriff, Mrs. Francis, of a dau. at Calverley Park, 

20th July. 

Smith, Mrs. H. J. of a dau. at Worthing, igth July. 
Smith, Mrs. D. Scott, of Devonshire-street, of a 

dau. 19th July. 
Smith, Mrs. Major, of a son, at Plympton Lodge, 

13th July. 
Smith, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Samuel Smith, of a 

son, at Camberwell, 16th July. 
Somerville, Mrs. James Curtis, of a dau. at Wells, 

17th July. 

Spriggs, Mrs. H. of a son, at Hornsey, 10th July. 
Stephenson, Mrs. George Robert, of a dau. at Black- 
heath Park, 15thJuiy. 

Sumner, Mrs. Robert, of a dau. at Colbourne Rec- 
tory, Isle of Wight, 25th June. 
Swifte, Mrs. Edmund Leathol, of a dau. at the 

Tower, 14th July. 
Synnot, Mrs. Robert, of a dau. at Cadogan Terrace, 

16th July. 
Tait, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Dr. Tait, of a dau. at 

Rugby, 20th June. 
Tomkins, Mrs. Samuel, iun. of a son, at Albert-road, 

Regent's Park, 20th July. 
Torkington, Mrs. L. I. of a son, at Tunbridge 

Wells, 20th July. 
Tweedy, Mrs. John Newman, of a son, at Portu au 

Prince, Hayti, 17th May. 
Ullathorne, Mrs. G. Hutton, of a son, at Notting- 

hill, 5th July. 
Vigne, Mrs. wife of the Rev. Henry Vigne, of a dau. 

at Sunbury Vicarage, 12th July. 
Wake, Mrs.W. of a dau, at Southampton, 4th July. 
Watson, Mrs. Henry, of a son, at Wellingborough, 

9th July. 
Watson, Mrs. T. S. of a son, at Kcw Green, 4th 

Watt, Mrs. wife of Captain Watt, Bengal Cavalry, 

of a dau. at Lea, Kent, 23rd June. 
Watts, Mrs. Richard, of a dau. at-Langford Vicar- 
age, Lechlade, 22nd July. 
Willink, Mrs. W. W. of a son, at Barntley, near 

Liverpool, 10th July. 
Wood, Mrs. W. Charles, of a son, at Fiddington 

House, near Devizes, 23d June. 
Wroughton, Mrs. Philip, of a son, at Ibstone House, 

19th July. 
Wyllie, Mrs. John, of a son, at Fulham, 10th 

Yonge, Mrs. wife of Captain Gustavus Yonge, 2nd 

Queen's Royals, of a son, 14th July. 
Young, Mrs. James H. of a dau. at Lee, Kent, 

20th July. 

p 2 


Alcock, Joseph Locker, Esq., r eldest son of Samuel 
AJoork, Esq., of Elder-house, Cobridge, Stafford 
shire, to Susannah, eldest daughter of the late 
William Burbridge, Esq., of Hatton-garden, 
London, 24th June. 

Anderson, W. D., Esq., of Sherrington, Wilts, to 
Marianne, eldest daughter of the late Rev. Thos. 
Harrison, incumbent of Holy Trinity, White- 
haven, and rector of Corney, Cumberland, 8th July. 

Andrews, Stanley, Esq., of St. Paul's-p ace, Isling- 
ton, to Louisa, youngest daughter of the late J. 
D. Welch, Esq., of Holyfield, Essex, l6th June. 

Arkwright, the Rev, Henry, to Ellen Home Purves, 
daughter of the late Viscountess Canterbury, 1st 

Bailey, Edward, eldest son of Edward Savage 
Bailey, Esq., of Berners-street, to Maria, second 
daughter of James Coles, Esq., of Old-park, 
Clapiiam-common, 24th June. 

Baiss, James, Esq., of Champion-hill, Camber- 
well, to Ann, fourth daughter of Benjamin Stand- 
rinpr, Esq., of theMinories, 1st July. 

Barker, Bradshaw, Esq., youngest son of the 
late John Barker, Esq., of Langshaw, Dum- 
friesshire, North Britain, to Rebekah Maria, 
eldest daughter of Colonel R. E. Burrows, K.H., 
Blackwell-'house, Somersetshire, 20th July. 

Barker, John, Esq., of Langshaw, Dumfriesshire, 
of the Madras Medical Service, to Isabella Hutch- 
inson, daughter of the late Major Campbell, of 
Walton -park, H.E.I.C.S , 22nd June. 

Barker, Joseph, Esq., of Coleshill, Warwickshire, 
to Harriet, youngest daughter of fhe late Edward 
Woolls, Esq., of Winchester, 8th July. 

Barnard, Henry, eldest son of the late William 
Barnard, Esq., of Kennington, to Elizabeth 
Jane, eldest daughter of the late Captain Henry 
Hamby, i;th July. 

Barnes, ' Robert, M.B., of Park-road, Notting- 
hill, and Glocester-terrace, Hyde-park, to Eliza, 

. eldest daughter of John Fawkener, Esq., of 
Norland- place, Notting-hill, IQth June. 

Bathe, U'illiain P., Esq., of 12, South-street 
London, to Ann Maria, eldest daughter of the 
late David Cameron, Esq., of Northaw-place, 
Herts, 22nd June. 

Beckwith, Wm. Andrews, Esq., of Wells, Somer- 
set, to Mary Ann, youngest daughter of the late 
James Baker, Esq., or Creeksea-place, Essex 
13th July. 

Benson, Samuel, fourth son of Rev. J.Benson, rector 
of Norton, Somerset, to Philippa, Tyoungest dau. 
of James Bourne, of Somerset street, Portman- 
square, 29th June. 

Berriedale, Lord, son of the Earl of Caithness, to 
Louisa Georgiana, youngest daughter of G. R. 
Phillips, Esq., M.P., and the Hon. Mrs. Phil- 
lips, 10th July. 

Blake, the Rev. Henry Bunbury, eldest son of Sir 
Henry BlaUe, Bart., of Langham, Suffolk, to 
Frances Marian, only daughter of Henry James 
Oakes, Esq., of Nowton-court, and High Sheriff 
of the county of Suffolk, 1st July. 

Bligu, Richard, Esq., eldest son of" the late Richard 
Biigh, Esq., barrister of the Inner Temple, and 
grandson of the late Admiral Wm. Biigh, to 
Maria Isabella, daughter of the late Captain 
Fennell, Aide-de-Carnp to Sir Thomas Brisbane 
Bart., then Governor of New South Wales, l6tl 

Blundell, Mr. Henry Caslon, of the Commissariat 
third son of Thomas Leigh Blundell, M-D., of 
39, Lombard-street, to Elizibeth, daughter of 
Joseph Taylor, Esq., of Port Frances, 28th April. 

Bond, Edward AugustusJE^q., to Caroline Frances, 
daughter of the late Rev. il. II. Barhain, rector 
of St. Faith's, London, loth July. 

Bowdoin, James Temple, Esq., late Captain of the 
4th (Royal Iri^h) Dragoon Guards, only son of the 
late James Temple Bowdoin, Esq., and grandson 
of Sir John Temple, Bart., to Elizabeth, third 
daughter of Sir William Clay, Bart., M.P., of 
Fulwell-lodge, in the county of Middlesex, 26th 

Bradley, the Rev. Edward, of Brighton, to Sarah, 
the youngest daughter of Mr. John Torey, of 
Gibson-square, Islington, 25th June. 

Buckingham, Wm., Esq., of Exeter, to Elizabeth 
Heath, third daughter of the late John Herman 
Merivale, Esq., 24th June. 

Burrowes, John, third son of the late Thomas 
Burrowes, Esq., of Limehouse, to Funny, fourth 
daughter of Charles Rich. Nelson, Esq., of 
Twickenham-common, Middlesex, 14th July. 

Campbell, Captain Colin Yorke, R.N., eldest son 
of Rear-Admiral D. Campbell, of Barbreck, 
Argyleshire, to Elizabeth, second daughter of 
James Hyde, Esq., of Apley, Isle of Wight, 1st 

Champ, Charles, Esq., of Camden-road-villas, 
Camden New-town, to Eliza, youngest daughter 
of the late C. Wooifrey, Esq., of Lulworth, 
Dorsetshire, 23rd June. 

Champion, Henry, youngest son of the late Chan. 
Champion, Esq., of Blyth, Notts, to Miss Rogers 
of Ranley-house, near Retford, Notts, 10th July, 

Champneys. the Rev. Dr., head-master of the Col. 
legiate School, Glasgow, to Sarah Leake, eldest 
daughter of the late Rev. T. H. Walpole, vicar 
of Wii.slow, Bucks, 15th July. 

Chapman, Wm. Danie, Esq., youngest son of Wm. 
Chapman, Esq., of Newcasile-on-Tyne, to Janet, 
fifth surviving daughter of the Rev. H. T. Hare, 
of Ducking-hall, Norfolk, 8th July. 

Charles, Robert, eldest son of Robert Charles, 
E-q., of Endsleigh-terrace, Tavistock-square, to 
Henrietta Keddey, daughter of Joseph Fletcher, 
Esq., of Union-dock, Limehouse, 29th June. 

Colgrave, Francis Edward, son of Wm. Col grave, 
Esq., of Bryanston-square, London, and Brace- 
bridge and Mere-hall, Lincolnshire, to Mary 
Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Robert Bruce 
Chichester, Esq., of Lower Seymour-street, Port- 
man-square, and niece of Sir Bruce Chichester, 
Bart., of Arlington-court, Devon. 

Collin, Count du, Baron de Barizien, Viscount de 
Cury, to the Countess Cofmar, daughter of his 
Royal Highness the Duke of Brunswick, 10th 

Comins, Richard, Esq., of Tiverton, to Catherine 
Mack, youngest daughter of John Shuckburgh 
How, Esq., of the Lodge, near Tiverton, 24th June. 

Cooper, Wm., jun., Esq., of Upper Holloway, to 
Catherine, second daughter of James Simms, 
Esq., of Haslemere, Surrey, 14th June. 

Colter, Pownoll Pellow, Esq., R.N., to^ Harriett 
Emma, second daughter of the late John Haile, 
ESI]., Paymaster and Purser, R.N., of Albany- 
road, Camberwell, 20th July. 

Davenport, Sam. Skurray, Esq., of Bahia, to Anna 
Cecilia, eldest daughter of Frederick Grigg, Esq., 
late of Rio de Janeiro, 30th June. 

Deane, Joseph, late Captain Carabineers, son of the 
late W. Browne, Esq., and the Lady Charlotte, of 
Browne's-hill, Carlow, to Georgiana Charlotte, 
only child of the late Lieut.-Coi. Thursby, of the 
53rd Regiment, 23rd June. 

Dolan, Henry, Esq., of Isleworth, to Anne Con- 



stuntia, daughter of John Rees, Esq., of Melbury-f Hatf on, George Sydney, Esq., Albert-villas, St. 

terrace, Hare wood-square, 7th July. j John's, Fuluam, to Anne, second daughter of 

Domviile, the Rev. David Edward, M.A., of Se- Henry Wilkinson, Esq., Bromptou-square, 1/ta 

mington, Wiltshire, to Mary Jane, daughter of July. 

Ewen Stabb, Esq., of the Retreat, South Lam- Healey, George, of Watford, to Elizabeth Whitting- 

beth, 13th July. | stall, only daughter of John Beaumont, Esq., of 

Drake, John, Esq., of Regent's-park, to Eliza,! St. Alban's, 24th June. 

^i i_i_ T 1 ll_ll M ,.,-.,.., T. 1 ^ 1 T? 

youngest daughter of the late John Belli- my, 
Esq., of Wobern-square, 1st July. 

Driffield, Charles Edward, of Prescot, solicitor, to 
Margaret, youngest daughter of the late Peter 
Millett, Esq., of Prescot, 6th July. 

Dunn, Richard Marsh, Esq., eldest son of Captain 
James C. Dunn, Royai Navy, to Eliza Helen 
yonnarer daughter of James Bower, Esq., of 
Weymouth and Me!comb Regis, 20th July. 

Dunne, Charles Augustus, third sou of the late 
Simon Dunne, Esq., R N., commander of her 
Majesty's cruiser, Castle Coote, to Maria, eldest 
rlausrlifer of the late Mr. Thomas Dyson, oi 
London, 21st June. 

Dutt.n, Wm. Quinton, Esq , of Twickenham, to 
Mary Ann, eldest daughter of Wm. Dutton, Esq 
of Hampton, Oxfordshire, 16th June. 

Eastwick, Edward B., Esq., of Haleybury, to 
Rusina Jane, only surviving daughter of the late 
Jiunes Hunter Esq., of Hafton, 25tL June. 

JM'vatdes, John, Esq., youngest son of Vincent 
Edwardes, Esq , of Farmcote, Staffordshire, to 
Jemima, daughter of the late Rev. John Marten 
Butt, M.A., vicar of East Garston, Berks, 26th 

Hounslow, to Caroline, youngest daughter of 
Robert Tench, Esq., of Ludlow, 30th June. 

Erwin, Alfred Stevens, Esq., of Bognor, to Emily 
Maitland, second daughter of Capt. Addison, 
H.E.I.C.S., 29th June. 

Fisher, the Rev. Robert Bailey, vicar of Basildon, 
to Louisa, third daughter of the late Isaac Currie, 
Esq.. of Bush-hill, Middlesex, 21st July. 

Henderson, Edward, Esq., of the Bombay Military 
Service, second son of John P. Henderson, Esq. 
of Manchester-square, to Judith Hutton, eldest 
daughter of the late Dr. Wm. Cookson, M.D., 
of Lincoln, 17th July. 

Hinde, Wm. Esq., of'Cleobury Mortimer, Salop, 
to Mary Frances, second daughter of Thomas 
Williams, Esq., of Warfield- lodge, Berks, and of 
Adelaide, South Australia, 8th July. 

Hockin, John, Esq., of Dominica, third son of tLe 
Rev. Win. Hockin, rector of Philiack, Cornwall, 
to Mary, second daughter of Wm. Hickeas, E.-q., 
of Camberwell -grove, 24th June. 

Hodgson, the Rev. O. A., minor canon of Win- 
chester Cathedral, to Eleanor Lucy, second 
daughter of Wm. Mitchell, Esq., of Pctersfidd, 
1st July. 

Hore, Lieutenant E. G., second son of the late 
Captain Hore, R.N., of Pole-Hore, in the c;U'i!y 
of Wexford, Ireland, to Maria, second <iuu^hu;r 
of Lieut. -Col. Reid, Governor of the Wii.dward 
Islands, 17th June. 

Huggins, Edward, Esq., of Bellina-villa, Kentish- 
town, to Ellen, eldest daughter of John Meacock, 
Esq., of Little Baling, 2nd July. 

nmott, Christopher Browning:, Esq., M.D., of Hughes, the Rev. John Young, B. A., to Justina 

Mercy, only child of Richard Rhodes, Esq., of 
Greenwich, 15th July. 

Inglefield, S. H. S., Lieutenant Royal Artillery, 
second son of Rear-Admiral Inglefield, C.B , 
Commander-in-Chief of the East India and China 
Station, to Charlotte, youngest daughter of the 
late Colonel Coore, of Scrutton-hall, in the same 
county, 28th June. 

Frost, Thomas, Esq., Gravel-pits, Shere, Surrey, to Illingworth, the Rev. Edward, M,A., of Edgbaston, 

Julia Caroline, third daughter of Captain Pyner, 
East Sandfield-house, Guildford, 8th June. 

Gard iner, James Spalding, Esq., of Manor-house, 
Great Wymondly, Herts, to Mary Ann, only 
child of the late George and Mary Ann Haywood, 
ami granddaughter of the late Wm. Porthouse, 
Esq., of Balham-hill, Surrey, 19th June. 

Gel!, Inigo, son of Francis Harding Gell, Esq.. 
cot oner for the county of Sussex, to Anne, dau. 
of Edward Prichard, Esq., banker, Ross, 6th July. 

Gtsrney, Francis Hay, eldest son of Daniel Gurney, 
E*q., of North Runcton, and the late Lady 
Harriet Gurney, to Margaret Charlotte, eldest 
daughter of Sir Wm. Browne Folkes, Bart., 8th 

Hal head, Francis, of the Middle Temple, Esq., 
son of the late John Halhead, Esq., of Yately- 
house, Hants, to Mary Anne, daughter of the 
-late James Powell, Esq., of Clapton-house, Mid- 
dlesex, 1st July. 

Hammet, James Palmer Francis, eldest son of the 
late James Esdaile Hammet, Esq., to Jocosa 
Jane, second daughter of Swynfen Jervis, Esq., 
of Whitehall-place, and Darlaston-hall, Stafford- 
shire, 1st July, 

Hammond, Charles Eaton, Esq., banker, of New- 
market, to Emily Law Wilson, second daughter 
of the Rev Plumpton Wilson, vicar of Thorpe, 
Arnold, 1st July. 

Hammond, the Rev. Egerton Douglas, second son 
of Wm. Osmond Hammond, Esq., of St. Alban'- 
couit, Kent, to Elizabeth Katherine, elder dau. 
of Robert Whitmore, Esq., of Portland-place, 
London, 6th July. 

Hartley, the Rev. Wm. Samuel, B.A., vicar of 
Laughton, Yorkshire, to Elizabeth, youngest 
daughter of the Rev. Henry Boyce, M.A., of 
the Abbey-road, St. John's-wood, 1st July. 

Hdrwood, James, Esq., to Charlotte, youngest 
daughter of the late John Tray ton Fuller, Esq., 
of Ashdown-house, in the county of Sussex, 13th 

only son of A. Illingworth, Esq., surgeon, R.N., 
of Fowey, Cornwall, to Louisa, daughter of the 
late Dr. Percy, of Bedworth-hall, Warwickshire, 
and- niece of Miss Piercy, of Priory-place, 
Edibaston, 17th June. 

Jackson, Henry, Esq., of St. Helen 's-place, Lon- 
don, to Emily, daughter of the late David Came- 
ron, Esq., of 'Northaw-place, Herts, 15th July. 

Janson, Henry, Esq, of Clapton-terrace, to 
Caroline, only daughter of the late Thos. Home 
Janson, Esq., of Hurstperpoint. 

Jones, Alban Thomas, Esq., of Bilboa, to Marie 
Margarita de Ynchaustegui, of Aibia, Biscav, 
23rd June. 

Key, John Binny, Esq., of the firm of Binny and 
Co., Madras, to Annabella Homeria, vm:"ow of 
the late John Harcourt, Esq. surgeon H.ftJ.S. 
and eldest daughter of Major- General Sir George 
Pollock, G.C.B. 27th Feb. 

Knipe, George Marshall, Esq., S.Qth regt. , second 
son of G. M. Knipe, Esq., of Belturbet, county 
of Cavan, to Jessie Maria, daughter of the late 
Sir Simon Howard, of Carlisle, many years Pie 
sideut of the Medical Board at Madras, 20th 

Kynvett, Frederic, Esq., Captain, Madras Army, 
to Laura Frances, second daughter of the late 
Major d'Arley, 28th June. 

Lambert, Benjamin, second son of Daniel Lam- 
bert, Esq., of Banstead, to Margaret Anne, eld. 
daughter of P. N. Tomlins, Esq., of Pain- 
ter's-hall, London, and Dulwich, Surrey, lOtli 

Landon, the Rev. James T. B., M.A., Fellow of 
Magdalen College, Oxford, to Sarah, second duu. 
of the late Francis Watt, Esq., of Beveriev, 
Yorkshire, 13th July. 

Langton, W. F., Esq., of Bryfield, county of Devon, 
to Ellen Laura Elizabeth, third daughter of t!:e 
late Lieutenant Colonel Shakleworth, of Lea 
Grange. 15th July. 

Last, Charles Henry, Esq., of Hadleigh, Suffolk, t 



Louisa, youngest daughter of the late Rev. Job 
Marple Wallace, rector of Great Braxted, Essex, 
14th July. 

Leckie, Charles Taylor, Esq., Royal Nayy, to Eli 
zabeth Binning, second daughter of Major Shairp, 
of Houstoun, l6th June. 

Lloyd, Francis, Esq., Beaufort-lodge, Chelsea, to 
Marian Sadler, eldest daughter of the late Edw. 
Sadler, Esq., of Sutton Coldfield, Warwickshire, 
22nd June. 

Lomas, Holland, eldest son of George Lomas, Esq. 
of Birch-hall, Lancashire, to Nony Hardy, second 
daughter of Samuel Johnston, Esq., of Olinda 
Liscard, Cheshire, 22d June. 

Low, Archibald M'Arthur, Esq., of Chancery-lane, 
London, solicitor, to Caroline Anne, eldest dau. 
of George Hewlett, Esq., of Kniller's-court, 
near Fareham, 10th July. 

Lucas, Richard Bland, of South Audley-street, to 
Eliza, daughter of Mr. Richard Edwards, of 
Batshanger, in the county of Kent, 17th June. 

Lupton, Francis,- Esq., of Leeds, to Frances Eliza- 
beth, only daughter of T. M. Greenhow, Esq., 
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 1st July. 

Luscombe, J. H., Esq., of Forest-hill, Sydenham, 
to Clara, eldest daughter of James Bristow, Esq , 
of Ifield-court, in the county of Sussex, 22d 

Lyte, John Walter Maxwell, of Berry Head, Devon, 
to Emily Jeannette, eldest daughter of the late 
Colonel Craigie, Bengal Army, 24th June. 

MacDonnell, Richard Graves, L.L.D., eldest son of 
the Rev. Dr. MacDonnell. Senior Fellow of 
Trinity College, Dublin, to Blanche Anne, third 
daughtr of Francis Skurray, Esq., of Brunswick- 
square, Brighton, 10th July. 

Maddock, William, Esq., of Liverpool, to Eliza- 
beth, second daughter of the Rev. Edward Whit- 
ley, of Wandsworth, 23rd May. 

Marke, Sedley Bastard, Esq., of Liskeard, in the 
county of Cornwall, and of the Crescent, Ply- 
mouth, to Ann Eliza, eldest daughter of the Rev. 
Henry Addington Simcoe, of Penheale, Corn- 
wall, and granddaughter of the late Lieutenant- 
General Simcoe, of Wolford-lodge, Devon, 22d 

Meadows, the Rev. J. C., M.A., only son of the 
late Lieutenant-Colonel Meadows, 15th Regi- 
ment, and grandson of the Very Rev. Dr. Duppe", 
formerly Dean of Jersey, to Isabella, second dau. 
of Captain Edward Sutherland, the Royal Hos- 
pital, Chelsea, 14th July. 

Mecham, Maunsell, Esq., to Harriett Fairfax, relict 
of Edward Fairfax, Esq., R.N., 15th July. 

Mercer, Arthur Hill Hasted, Esq., 60th King's 
Royal Rifles, son of Colonel Mercer, R.M., Com 
mandant, Plymouth, to Elizabeth Anne, daugh- 
ter of the late Major Robert Hutchinson Ord, 
R.A., K.H., a Deputy- Lieutenant for the county 
of Essex, 10th July. 

Merest, James Drage, Esq., of the Abbey, Bury St. 
Edmund's, Suffolk, to Maria Billington, third 
daughter of the late William Hawes, Esq., of the 
Adelphi terrace, London, IQth July. 

Miles, Geo., Esq., of Lee, Kent, to Fanny, youngest 
daughter of the late Edward Augustus Gilbons, 
Esq., of the Wandsworth road, 1st July. 

Miller, Arthur Octavius, son ol the late Richard 
Miller, Esq., of Kensington-lodge, Harrow, to 
Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Lieutenant W. L. 
Brake, R.N., of the Priory, Wandswortb-road, 
22d July. 

Mitchison, William Anthony, Esq., of Sunbury, to 
Harriett Jane Stovin, daughter of Richard Stovin 
Maw, Esq., of Ashford-house, Middlesex, and of 
Withern, Lincolnshire, 1st July. 

Moffatt, Cornelius William. Esq., M.A., of the 
Middle Temple, son of William Moffatt, Esq., 
of Weymouth, to Catherine, second daughter of 
the late R. F. Roberts, Esq., of Burton Brad- 
stock, Dorset, 30th June. 

Mogrid*e, John, Esq., of Sinxonsbath, Devonshire, 
to Mary Ann, younger daughter of the late Mr. 

William Bowley, of Bishopsgate street, 17th 

Murray, John, Esq., of Albemarle-street, London, 
to Marion, third daughter of the late Alexander 
Smith, Esq., of Edinburgh, 6th July. 

Napier, John Moore, only son of Major-General 
Win. Napier, C.B., to Bessie Henrietta, youngest 
daughter of Major Charles Alexander, R. E., 22nd 

Norton, Thomas, Esq., of Shrewsbury, only son of 
Francis Ceilings Norton, Esq., to Ellen, only 
child of the late George Humphreys, Esq., of 
Newport, Shropshire, 2Qth June. 

Nunes, John, Esq., of Croydon, to Grace Isabella 
Le Neve, eldest daughter of the late Peter Le 
Neve Forster, Esq., of Lenwade, Norfolk, 22nd 

Ord, Mark, Esq., of Hurworth-grange, to Eliza- 
beth Dixon, daughter of T. D. Walker, Esq., of 
Hurworth, 1st July. 

Palmer, Captain N. H., of the Emerald Isle, second 
son of Nathaniel Palmer, Esq., Recorder of 
Great Yarmouth, to Martha Mealing, eldest dau. 
of Robert Mills, Esq., of that city, 8th July. 

Parker, Charles Abraham, eldest ton of George 
Parker, Esq., Church-hill-house, Handsworth, 
Staffordshire, to Fanny, eldest daughter of Grif- 
feth Briscoe.Esq., Doncaster, and granddaughter 
of the late Robert Tomlin, Esq., of Edith Wes- 
ton, Rutland, 7th July. 

Phillips, Barnet S., Esq., of Chester-terrace, Re- 
gent's-park, to Philippa, daughter of Phillip 
Samuel, Esq., of Bedford- place, 2Qth June. 

Pinney, Francis, , Esq., of Tyndwr Llangollen, to 
Dorothy, fourth daughter of Henry Gisby, Esq., 
of Hollycurdane, Thanet, 28Ch June. 

Plowden, Charles, Esq., of Florence, to Anne Eliza, 
daughter of the late George Bryan, Esq., of 
Jenkinstown, county of Kilkenny, 12th July. 

Quicke, John, Esq., eldest son of John Quicke, 
Esq., of Newton St. Cyres, in the county of 
Devon, to Mary Elizabeth, only daughter of the 
late Thomas Wentworth Gould, Esq., of Bath- 
ealton-court, Somerset, 24th June. 

Randolph, the Rev. William, third son of the Rev. 
Herbert Randolph, late rector of Letcombe Bas- 
sett, Berks, to Anne, the widow of the Rev. Ed- 
mund Burke Lewis, late rector of Toddington, 
Bedfordshire, 2Qth June. 

Reece, Robert, Esq., jun. of Exeter College, Ox- 
ford and of the Inner Temple, to Louisa, eldest 
daughter of Joseph Kirkman, Esq., Igth July. 

Reynolds, Charles William, Esq., late Captain in 
the 16th Lancers, to Charlotte Mary, only dau. 
of the Rev. R. P. Butler, 24th June. 

Robinson, the Rev. Gilbert William, M.A., incum- 
bent of Walmley, Warwickshire, to Frances 
Sarah, youngest surviving daughter of the late 
Michael Russell, Esq. of Wimbledon, 14th July. 

Routh, Edward, Esq. of Blackheath, to Elizabeth 
Skardon Taylor, only daughter of the late Wil- 
liam Cress Taylor, Esq., of Blackheath, 26th 

Rowland, George, Esq., of Holly-lodge, Heacham, 
Norfolk, to Eliza, third daughter of the late Rev. 
James Wright, rector of East Harling and Hin- 
derclay, in the same county, 19th June. 

Saunders, Edward, Esq., 2nd Dragoon Guards, 
youngest son of Richard Saunders, Esq. of 
Largey, county of Cavan, to Caroline, second 
daughter of John Weldale Knollys, Esq. of Read- 
ing, Berks, 29th June. 

Scholey, Alfred, second son of George Scholey, 
Esq., to Fanny, second daughter of George 
Baker, Esq., both of Westbourne-terrace, Hyde- 
park, 22d July. 

Scholfield, Henry Daniel, M.D., of Birkenhead, to 
Myra Caroline, only daughter of the late James 
Taylor, Esq., Bombay Civil Service, and grand- 
daughter of the late Major-General R. Lewis, 
15th July. 

Hercombe, Rupert C, Esq., of Carlton - villas, 
Maida-vale, to Louisa, third daughter of William 




Henrj Smith, Esq., of Kilburn house, Middlesex 

15th July. 
Shruhsole, John, 

youngest son of William 

Shrubsole, Esq., to Sarah Alicia Eliza, eldes 
daughter of C. J. Fenner, Esq., of Hampton 
wick, Middlesex, 8th July. 

Simmons, Lieutenant- Colonel, C.B., late of the Watson, the Rev. Thomas M.A., of Caius Col- 

41st Regiment, to Frances, relict of Alexander 

Munro, of Trinidad, and eldest daughter of J 

Townshend Pasea, of Streatham-lodge, 8th July. 
Skinner, Captain H., of the Nizam's Cavalry, to 

Rose Ann, eldest daughter of Samuel Cardozo, 

Esq., of Redruth, Cornwall, 12th July. 
Slous, Angiolo Robson, Esq., to Emily, youngest 

daughter of John Sherborn, Esq., of Ladbroke- 

square, 6th July. 
Smith, Willia-n, Esq., of Blandford, to Sophia, 

eldest daughter of the late John Whittle, Esq., 

15th June. 
Smith, William Hornsby, eldest son of the late 

Charles Smith, of Milton next Sittingbourne, 

Kent, to Bridget Lavinia Cottenburgh, daughter 

of the late John Llanwarne, Esq., and Mrs. 

Lynch, of Somerset-street, Portman square, 20th 

Stafford, William Jones, Esq., of Liverpool, to 

Sophia Farrington, only daughter of the late 

Dr. Nagle, R.N., 23rd May. 
Street, James, C., Esq. of Milton-street, Dorset- 

Barkshire Street, Esq., Chichester, Sussex, to 
Bessie, eldest daughter of the late George Smith, 
Esq., of Salisbury, 7th July. 

Taylor, Skinner, Esq., eldest son of the late Wm. 
Taylor, Esq., of Brixton-place, in the county of 
Surrey, to Anne Jenner Buss, of Maidstone, in 
the county of Kent, spinster, 10th July. 

Tillard, the; Rev. Richard H., of St. John's Col- 

Waller, James, Esq. of Eliza, eldest dau. 

of Joseph King Blundell, Esq., of the same 

place, 21st July. , 

Ware, Samuel, Esq., of Fitzroy-square, to Isabella, 

second daughter of the late Lancelot Hare, M.D. 

of Upper Gower-street, 1st July. 

lege, Cambridge, and assistant chaplain in the 
Hon. East India Company's Service, to Caro- 
line, third daughter of the late Francis Gibbes, 
Esq., of Harewood, 8th July. 

Watson, John, Esq., of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, 
younger son of the late Richard Watson, Esq., 
of Lutterworth, in the county of Leicester, to 
Anne, second daughter of Charles Blayney Trevor 
Roper, Esq., of Plas Teg-park, in the county of 
Flint, 2-lth June. 

Weller, Charles Grainger, Esq., son of Captain 
Weller of Leisham, to Lucy Harriett, eldest dau. 
of William Mellet Hollis, Esq., of the same place, 
15th July. 

Whitworth, the Rev. T., rector of Addlethorpe, and 
vicar of Thorpe, Lincolnshire, to Emma, young- 
est daughter of the late John Pulley, Esq., of 
Bedford, 17th June, 

Wilkinson, Alexander, fourth son of the late James 
Wilkinson, Esq., of Leadenhall-street, to Caro- 
line Stewart, only daughter of the late John 
Lamb, Esq., of Edinburgh, 17th July 

square, London, eldest son of the late James Wilians, O., Esq., jun., of Askitt-hill, Roundhay 

near Leeds, to Elizabeth, eldest daughter of 
William Tetley, Esq., of Asenby - lodge, near 
Thirsk, 14th July. 

Willes, Charles Thomas, Esq., fourth son of the 
late Rev. Wm. Snippen Willes, of Astrop house, 
county of Northampton, to Mary Patience, second 
daughter of the Rev. Henry Wise, of Off church, 
and the Priory, Warwick, 20th July. 

lege, Cambridge, to Anna, second daughter of Willock, the Rev. Charles Wm., of Balliol College, 
the Rev. Joseph Cotterill, rector of Blakeney, Oxford, son of the late A. C. Willock, Esq., 

Royal Artillery, to Maria, daughter of Richard 
Gosiing, Esq., of North Cray, 23rd June. 

24th June. 
Towgood, John, Esq., of Chancery-lane, barrister- 

at-law, to Mary Philips, daughter of Mr. Robert 
Rickards, of Chiswell-street, Finsbury- square, 
8th July. 

Vaimer, Charles Auguste Pinon Duclose de, only 
son of the Vicomte de Vaimer, of La Barre, 
France, and of Ozleworth-park, Gloucestershire, 
to Julia Eliza, only child of Thomas JBurslem, 

f Esq., and step daughter of Benjamin Jackson, 
late of Youghal, 21st July. 

Varden, Richard, Esq., Civil Engineer, of Worces- 
ter, to IClizabeth Susannah, only daughter of T. 
P. Medwin. Esq., of Stourbridge, 8th July. 

Villiers W. G. Villiers, eldest son of the late G. 
W. Villiers Villiers, to Norah Frances Sheridan 
Power, youngest daughter of the late Tyrone 
Power, Esq., 30th June. 

Wilts, the Venerable the Archdeacon of, to Frances 
Laura, daughter ^of the late W. Dawson, Esq., 
of Wakefield, Yorkshire, 20th July. 

Wolley, William F., Esq., to Jane, eldest daughter 
of the late Henry Coape, Esq., 21st June. 

Wright, Edward, Esq., of Kennington, only son of 
Charles Wright, Esq., to Rose Mary, youngest 
daughter of Thomas Trew, Esq., of Woburn- 
place, and Newark-house, St. Peter's, Thanet, 
17th July. 

Yates, William, Esq., of Lincoln's-inn, to Mary 
Cowlard, eldest surviving daughter of the late 
James Arundell, Esq., and niece of the late 
William Whitton, Esq., of Stonewall, Kent, 1st 


Alexander, Louisa Augusta, daughter of thej 
late Lesley Alexander, Esq. of Newtown 
Limvaddy, co. Londonderry, at Neuwied, 
on the Rhine, 26th June. 

Allan, Captain Robert, formerly of Calcutta, 
at No. 47, Brompton crescent, in the 60th 
year of his age, 30th June. 

Alston, Mrs. James, of Bryanston square, 
1st July. 

Anderton, Lieutenant W. F. of the 9th 
Lancers, eldest son of Captain Anderton, 
late of the 1st Life Guards, on board the 
Glendaragh, on his passage from Calcutta 
to England, 16th March. 

Askew, Lieut.-General Sir Henry, C.B. 
This gallant officer died on the 25th June, 
at Cologne, in his 73rd year, having bet n 
born 7th May, 1775. He was third son, 



l>y Bridget, his wife, daughter and heiress 
of John Watson, Esq. of Goswick, co. 
Durham, of the late John Askew, Eeq 
of Pallinsburn, fourth son of Dr. Adam 
Askew, of Storrs Hall, and succeeded to 
the representation of this branch of the 
Askews of Redheugh, co. Durham, on the 
decease of his elder brother in 1838. Sir 
Henry entered the army, as Ensign in the 
1st Foot, in 1793, and served in Holland 
and Flanders, Sicily, the Mediterranean, 
the Expedition to Walchercn in 1809; 
and in the Peninsula and South of France 
from 1812 to 1814. He participated in 
the brilliant operations of 1815, was 
wounded at Quatre Bras, and received a 
Waterloo Medal, as well as one for 
services at Nive. He was knighted in 
1 821, and attained the rank of Lieut enanj- 
General in 1837. 

Aspinall, James, Esq. This highly respect 
able gentleman was a member of the Cor 
poration of Liverpool, and had filled the 
office of Mayor of that important town 

He was also a magistrate for the county 
of Lancaster. The death of Mr. Aspinal 
was awfully sudden. While in Vauxhal 
Gardens on the night of Thursday the 
17th June, with a party of friends, he fel 
down and at once expired. The cause 
was apoplexy, brought on no doubt ty 
his excessive corpulency. Mr. Aspinall 
though only forty-two years of age at hi 
decease, weighed 21, stone. 
Badderston, Elizabeth, relict of Thoma 
Francis Badderston, Esq. late of Baddon 
Lodge, Essex, aged 50. 26th June. 
Baker, Louisa, second daughter of the lat 
Sir Robert Baker, Bart, of Dunstab! 
house, Richmond, Surrey, aged 54, 20tl 

Barclay, Louisa, youngest dau. of Rober 
Barclay, Esq. of Lombard street, banker 
at Leyton, Essex, aged 13, 4fh July. 
Barlow, Capt. Frederick, late of the 61s 

Regiment, aged 37, 8th July. 
Barton, Anne, wife of James Barton, Esq. 
of Buenos Ayres, South America, and 
daughter of the late John Mackinlay, 
Esq. at Edge-hill, Liverpool, 6th July/ 
Barwise, Lieut. John, Madras Artillery, at 

Octacamund, aged 23, 15th May. 
Bazalgette, Frances, widow of L. Bazalgette, 
Esq. late of Eastwick-park, co. Surrey, 
at her residence in Gloucester - place, 
Portman square, in her 79th year, 3rd 

Bedwell, Percivnl, Esq. of the Registrar's- 
office of the High Court of Chancery, 
suddenly, aged 38, 29th July. 
Bell.George Joseph, M.B. Balliol; K.C.L.S. 
Radcliff travelling fellow of Oxford ; and 
Physician to Her Majesty's Mission in 
Persia ; second son of the late Professor 
George Joseph Bell, of Edinburgh, at 

Erzeroom, on his way from Persia, in the 
34th year of his age, 20th May. 

5ennett,Mary, the wife of Charles Bennett, 
at Stanhope-lodge, Hyde-park, in her 
74th year, 22nd June. 

5erney, Miss, only daughter of Thomas 
and Elizabeth Berney, formerly of Bracon 
Ash, Norfolk, at Bracon-hall, 25th June. 
Bingley, Robert, Esq. F.R.S. at Highara 
Lodge, Woodford, Essex, aged 82, 17th 

Mshop, Deputy- Assistant-Commissary-Gen- 
eral Alfred, second son of Sir Henry 
Bishop, at Bermullet, co. Mayo, Ireland, 
of fever, 17th June. 

31and. Judith Selina, daughter of the late 
T. D. Bland, Esq. of Kippax-park, at 
Hundhill. near Pontefract, 16th July. 

Blunt, Sir Walter, Bart. 13th July. 

Bouchette, Adelaide, relict of the late 
Colonel Bouchette, Her Majesty's Sur- 
veyor-General of the province, at Mon- 
treal, Canada, 10th June. 

Boulton, Hugh William, Esq. of the 1st 

Life Guards, second son of the late Mat- 
thew Robinson Boulton, Esq. of Soho, 
Staffordshire, and Tew-park, Oxfordshire, 
aged 25, 18th July. 

Bouverie, Charles, only son of the late 
Charles Henry Bouverie, Esq. of Oxford- 
house, Great Marlow, at Islington, aged 
23, 9th July. 

Brabazon, William John, Esq. of Brabazon- 
park, Mayo, died recently at Malta. Mr. 
Brabazon was elder son of Hercules 
Sharpe, Esq. of Oaklands, Sussex, by 
Anne Mary his wife, eldestr daughter of 
the late Sir Anthony Brabazon, Bart, of 
Brabazon Park, co. Mayo, and grandson 
of Cuthbert Sharpe, Esq. of Sunderland, 
by Susanna his wife, sister of Brass 
Crosby, M. P. for Honiton, the distin- 
guished Lord Mayor of London in 1771, 
who made in that year a successful strug- 
gle for the free publication of the parlia- 
mentary debates, and suffered imprison- 
ment in the Tower of London. Mr. W. 
J. Brabazon changed his patronymic 
Sharpe for the surname of Brabazon, by 
royal licence, on succeeding to the estates 
of his uncle, Sir Wm. John Brabazon, 
Bart. M. P. His uncle, Sir Cuthbert 
Sharpe, F.S.A. is an eminent antiquarian 

Brandon, Joshua J. Esq. late of Harley- 
street, at Paris, 23rd June. 

Brodhurst, Eleanor, third daughter of John 
Edward Brodhurst, Esq. at Crowbill, 
Mansfield, 25th June. 

Bull, the Rev. John Garwood, A.B. vicar 
of Godalming, Surrey, at York, aged 
55, 8h July. 

Butler, Cornelius Haynes, Esq. of Ingate- 
stone, Essex, aged 35, 28th June. 

Buttaushaw, Major W. late of the Bengal 



Army, at Lee-park, Blackheath, in the 
56th year of his age, 17th June. 
Buxton, Charles, Esq. at Bellfield, near 

Weymouth, aged 88, 16th July. 
Cambridge, Charles Owen, Esq. of Whit- 
minster-house, co. Gloucester, in his 95th 
year, 29th June. 

Capel, Lady Caroline. This lady, who 
died on the 9th July, aged 74, was eldest 
sister of the present Marquis of Anglesey, 
being daughter of Henry, first Earl of 
Uxbridge, by Jane his wife, daughter of 
the Very Rev. Arthur Champagne, Dean 
of Clonmacnoise. Her ladyship married 
2nd April, 1792, the Hon. John Thomas 
Capel, son of the fourth Earl of Essex, 
and was left a widow in 1819 with three 
sons and eight daughters ; the eldest of 
the former succeeded to the hereditary 
honours of his family at the decease of 
his uncle in 1839, and is the present 
Earl of Essex. 

Cardew, Harriet, wife of Captain Cardew, 
74th Highlanders, and eldest daughter ol 
Lieutenant-Colonel Fenwick, Royal En- 
gineers, at Glasgow, aged 25, 13th June. 
Also, a few hours previously, Thomas 
Howard, infant son of the above Captain 
and Harriett Cardew. 

Chambers, Emma Catherine, relict of Davicl 
Chambers, Esq. and daughter of the late 
John Weyland, Esq. of Woodeaton, Ox- 
fordshire, in Glocester-terrace, Regent's- 
park, in her 66th year, 18th June. 
Chambers, Mary, only daughter of the late 
Rev. Thomas Chambers, aged 61, 12th 
Cheere, Mrs. Emma, at Montague-square 

29th June. 

Chisholm, Mrs. Susanna Stewart, wife oi 
Alexander Chisholm, Esq. artist, 17th 
. June. 

Clarke, his Excellency Andrew, Esq. K.H 
at Government-house, Perth, Westerr 
Australia, Governor and Commander-in 
Chief of that colony, and late Lieutenant 
Colonel in the 40th Regiment, aged 54 
llth Feb. 

Clayton, Michael, Esq. of Lincoln's Inn 
and Charlwood Park, Surrey, aged 53 
llth July. 

Coates, Henry, Esq. of dysentery, at Per 
nambuco ; having landed at that port three 
days previously from H.M. packet. Swift 
during nearly 30 years an eminent medi 
cal practitioner in Rio de Janeiro 4t 
Cogswell the Rev. William, A.M. at Hali 

fax. Nova Scotia, aged 37, 5th June. 
Colquit, Rear-Admiral, at Bishopstoke 

aged 61, 10th July. 

Cooper, Jane, third daughter of John 1 
Cooper, Esq. of Her Majesty's Ordnance, 
at the Tower, 5th July. 
Cotes, Thomas Durell, Esq. of Bath, a<"jd 
55, 20th July. 

>owdy, Lieutenant John Craven Lewis, 
36th Native Infantry, Madras Presidency, 
son of Captain Crowdy, R.N. of cholera, 
after a short illness, at Dieppe, 20th July. 

!!unliffe, Jane Hall, the wife of John Cun- 
liffe, jun Esq. and youngest daughter of 
the late John Woodburne, Esq. Thurston- 
ville, Lancashire, at Bank-parade, Pres- 
ton, 3rd July. 

Curtis, George Rix, Esq. late of Gainsbo- 
rough, Lincolnshire, at Bruges, in Bel- 
gium, in the 69th year of his age, 2oth 

Dalzell, Sarah, relict of the late John Tho- 
mas Robert Dalzell, Esq. at Wallingford, 
Berkshire, in the 83rd year of her age, 
llth July. 

Daniel, G. R. Esq. Q.C. of Landsdown- 
place, Cheltenham, and co. Westmeath, 
Ireland, in London, 19th June. 

Dansey, James Cruikshank, Esq. of Great 
Milton, Oxfordshire, eldest son of Colonel 
Dansey, C.B. at Ryde, in the Isle of 
Wight, in his 30th year, 18th July. 

iDelafosse, Margaret Teresa, eldest surviving 
daughter of the late Major Henry Dels- 
fosse, C.B. of the Bengal Artillery, and 
Principal Commissary of Ordnance, after 
a few days' illness, at Marlborough, in 
the 18th year of her age. 17th June. 

Dewdney, the Rev. Edmund, incumbent of 
St. John's Chapel, Portsea, at Florence, 
18th June. 

Dobinson, Joseph, Esq. Ensign in the 15th 
Madras Native Infantry, youngest son of 
Joseph Dobinson, Esq. of Egh am -lodge, 
Egham, Surrey, at Bangalore, in the 
20th year of his age, 28th April. 

Donne, Thomas, Esq. of Welch Street, 
Donatts, co. Glamorgan, 10th June. 

Douglas, Colin, Esq. of Maino, Lieut. R.N. 
at Aberdeen, 16th July. 

Downes, Matilda Granville, youngest ciau. 
of the late Major Charles and Frances 
Downes, of Edinburgh, at West Leigh, 
Havant, Hants. aged'l9, 25th June. 

Du Cane, Alice, the only surviving daughter 
of the late Major Du Cane, of the 20th 
Light Dragoons, at Witham, Essex, after 
a short illness, in the 24th year of her age, 
17th June. 

Dunlop, Margaret, relict of the late James 
Dunlop, Esq. of Glasgow, 17th June.* 

Dupuis, Seymour, eldest son of the Rev. 
Charles Dupuis, Rector of Brixton, co. 
Warwick, drowned off the Lizard, aged 
18, 7th July. 

Edgeworth, Major Thomas, formerly of the 
35th Regiment, at Hawthorne, Berks, 
20th July. 

Egan. Alice, relict of the late Edward Egan, 
lgq. at St. John's Wood, 6th July. 

Ewart, Eliza, daughter of Colonel Cheney, 
C.B. and relict of the late John Ewart, 
Esq. of Liverpool, at Deesin's Hotel, 
Calais, 2nd July. 



Fallow, the Rev. T. M. Incumbent of St 
Andrews, Marylebone, 16th July. 

Fisher, Susanna, second daughter of the late 
Captain Peter Fisher, R.N. of Walmer 
Kent, at Newport, Barnstaple, Devon, o 
consumption, 3rd July. 

Fitchett, Stephen, Esq. of Fareham, aged 
86, 25th June. 

Forbes, Caroline Maria, wife of Robert 
Forbes, Esq. and daughter of Charles 
Rooke, Esq. of Westwood-house, Essex 
in Glocester-place, Portman-square, 4th 

Forbes, Mrs. relict of the late Capt. Robert 
Forbes, aged 87, 10th July. 

Forester, Sophia, relict of the Rev. Henry 
Forester, late of Fifehead, Dorsetshire, a* 
Fareham, Hampshire, in the 86th year o 
her age, 28th June. 

Foster, John, Esq. at Beaumont-close 
Biggleswado, aged 83, 7th July. 

Frankland, Harry Albert, naval cadet o: 
Her Majesty's ship Alarm, on board Her 
Majesty's steam-sloop Hermes, off Vera 
Cruz, of yellow fever, in the 17th year of 
his age, 9th May. 

Gaff, Major John, late of the 76th Regiment, 
at Pimlico, aged 70, 25th June. 

Galloway, Jannett, only daughter of the 
late Thomas Galloway, Esq. aged 64, 
15th July. 

Gamier, Brownlow North, second son of the 
late Rev. William and Lady Harriett 
Garnier, of Rookesbury, Hants, at St. 
Margaret's, near Tichfield, in his 44th 
year, 28th June. 

Gibson, Thomas, Esq. at Putney, aged 29. 

Gilbert, William, Esq. at Cranbrook, Kent, 
aged 71, 19th July. 

Gil pin, Ellen, wife of the Rev. Bernard 
Gilpin, jun. of Aldborough, Yorkshire, 
and the eldest daughter of James Kendle, 
Esq. at Weasenham, Norfolk, in the 35th 
year of her age, 15th July. 

Gosset, the Rev. Thomas Stephen, M.A. 
one of the senior fellows of Trinity Col- 
lege, Cambridge, at his residence, Corn- 

Hamilton, John, youngest son of Major 
John Hamilton, late of the 77th Regiment 
of Foot, at the residence of his father, 6, 
Camden-street North, Camden- town, aged 
14 years, 9th July. 

Hammack, Arthur Wellesley, youngest son 
of John George Hammack, Esq. of Essex- 
house, Bow-road, in his 20th year, 19th 

Hanmer, Sarah Serra, wife of Lieutenant- 
Colonel Hanmer, the only child of the 
late Sir M. Ximenes, of Bear-place, Berks, 
in Devonshire-place, 29th June. 

Hardcastle, the Rev. C. of fever, at Water- 
ford, 1st July. 

Harden, John, Esq. of Crea, King's County, 
Ireland, at Miller-bridge, near A mbleside, 
in the 76th year of his age, 1st July. 
Mr. Harden, only son of William Harden , 
Esq. of the county of Tipperary, by Jane 
his wife, daughter and coheir of Joseph 
Webster, Esq. of Crea, King's County, 
was 6. 7th March, 1772, and m. 1st Jan. 
1803 Jessie, 2nd dau. of the late Robert 
Allan, Esq. Banker, of Edinburgh, by 
whom he has left issue ; Robert Allan, 
late of the Madras Native Infantry ; 
Joseph Webster, MA. Vicar of Condover ; 
John William, Judge of the County 
Court at Warrington ; and two daughters. 

Harman, Anna Maria Brisco, second dau. 
of John Harman, Esq. of Sussex-square, 
18th July. 

Harrison, R. Esq. Barrister-at-Law, at 
Twickenham, 12th July. 

Hart, Major Lockyer Willis, 22nd Regiment 
B. N. I. at Paris, in the 43rd year of his 
age, 27th June. 

Harvey, William Gilmore, Esq. formerly of 
Battle, Sussex, at his residence, North- 
end, Fulham, in his 89th year, 28th June. 

Sawkes, Elizabeth, relict of Robert Hawkes, 
Esq. of Norwich, 2nd July. 

:lenville ; Grace, wife of Charles B. Henville, 
Esq. of Winterborne, Dorset, aged 36, 
llth July. 

ley wood, Anne, relict of the late Nathaniel 

wall-terrace, Regent's-park, in his 57th 

year, 22nd July. 
Gunner, William John, Esq. second son of 

R. W. Gunner, (Esq. of Enfield Lock, j 

aged 20, 25th June. 
Hall, Lucy, the wife of Lieutenant-Colonel 

Jasper Hall, and eldest daughter of the 

late William Alves, Esq. of Enham-house, | 

Hants, at Biebrich, on the Rhine, 30th 

June. jHigham, R. P. Esq. at Eltham-place, Lee 

Hall, Jessie, relict of the late James Stuart j Green, Kent, aged 67, 23rd June. 

Hall, Esq. of Bittern Manor, Hants, llth Hindley, Susan, the younger daughter of 

Heywood, Esq. and daughter of the late 
Thomas Percival, M.D. F.R.S. at Acres- 
field, near Manchester, in the 80th year 
of her age, 13th June. 
Hicks, William Frederick, Esq. Ceylon 
Civil Service, second son of George Hicks, 
Esq. formerly of Somerset-street, Port- 
man-square, at the Cape of Good Hope, 
aged 26, 29th April. 

Hamilton, Robert, Esq. of Norwood, aged 

72, 14th July. 
Hamilton, Jessie, wife 

of T. M. M'Niell 

Hamilton, Esq. of Raploch, Lanarkshire. 
N. B. in Hamilton, aged 21, 2fith June. 

Charles Hindley, Esq. M.P. at Brighton, 

aged 12 years, 21st June. 
Hoare, Mrs. Charles, at Maidstone, aged 

57, 29th June. 
Holbech, Edward, Esq. late of the Innis- 

killen Dragoons, 24th June. 



Hollingwo^h, Francis, Esq. at West Hack- 
ney, 14th July. 

Horden, Henry William, Esq. at Stamford, 
aged 25, 23rd June. 

Horsford, Amelia, wife of the Hon. Paul 
Horsford, member of her Majesty's Coun- 
cil of Antigua, at Marine-place, Dover, 
in the 79th year of her age, 2nd July. 

Howes, John Baron, the eldest son of John 
Baron Howes, Esq. of Irthlingborough- 
grange, Northamptonshire, accidentally 
drowned in the river near that place, aged 
16 years, 1st July. 

Hudleston, Harriet, wife of Lieut.-Col. R 
Hudleston, H.E.I.C. and second dau. of 
the late Rev. Samuel Farewell, of Hole- 
brock-house, Somerset, at Ramsgate, after 
a lingering illness, 22nd June. 

Husband, Thomas, Esq. at Devonport, for 
many years a banker and magistrate of 
that town, and one of Her Majesty's jus- 
tices of the peace for the county of Devon, 
aged 86, 16th July. 

Jeaffreson, Mrs. John, at Islington, aged 
65, 29th June. 

Kelly, Dr. of Parsonstown, 14th July. 
This gentleman was a very eminent phy- 
sician, and for a long series of years en- 
joyed one of the most extensive practices 
in the central part of Ireland. His skill 
in cases of midwifery was universally ac- 
knowledged. Dr. Kelly, however, was 
not famed for knowledge alone ; his cha- 
rity, benevolence, and hospitality, had 
obtained him general regard and affection. 
The residence of Dr. Kelly was at Par- 
sonstown, in the King's County, a place 
of continual resort to travellers, in conse- 
quence of being the locality of Lord 
Rosse's wonderful telescope. Visitors 
thither will have cause to regret the Doc- 
tor's death, for at his social and intel- 
lectual home many a stranger met a cor- 
dial and agreeable welcome. Indeed 
there are stories told on good authority 
of how, on more than one occasion, the 
worthy Doctor being called to travellers 
taken ill at the inn in his town, has in- 
vited them to his house, and never allowed 
them to depart until he restored them to 
health ; on such occasions he refused all 
pecuniary reward for his services, as he 
then esteemed the patients his guests. 
Dr. Kelly died at Parsonstown, after a 
short illness, at a very advanced age. He 
leaves behind him a numerous family. 
One of his sons is Edmund Meares Kelly, 
Esq. a member of the Irish bar, and the 
author of a well-known work on the law 
relating to Scire Facias. 

Kelly, Captain Waldron Barrs, Staff Officer 
of Pensioners, and late of the 22nd Regt. 
youngest son of Lieutenant-Colonel Kelly, 
of Tilbury Fort, at Sligo, Ireland, of 
fever, 12th July. 

Lane, Emma, eldest daughter of Brevet 
Lieut. Colonel John Theophilus Lane, 
C.B., of the Bengal Artillery, and grand- 
daughter of the late Commissioner Lane, 
of the Royal Navy, in her 2 1 st year, at 
Paris, on the 16th July. 

Lanesborough, Earl of, Brinsley Butler, 
fourth Earl of Lanesborough, died re- 
cently, at Brislington,near Bristol. His 
Lordship was only surviving son of Robt. 
Henry, third Earl, by Elizabeth, his wife, 
eldest daughter of the Right Hon. David 
La Touche, and grandson of Brinsley, 
second Earl of Lanesborough, by Jane, 
daughter of Robert, first Earl of Belve- 
dere. The deceased peer was born 22nd 
October, 3783, and had, consequently, 
completed his 64th year. Never having 
married he is succeeded in his honours 
and estates by his cousin, George John 
Danvers Butler Danvers, Esq., of Surth- 
land Hall, Leicestershire, now fifth Earl 
of Lanesborough, who is eldest son of the 
late Honourable Augustus Richard But- 
ler, by Elizabeth, his first wife, daughter 
and heir of Sir John Danvers, Bart. The 
new peer was born in 1794, and married 
29th August, 1815, Frances Arabella 
third daughter of the late Colonel Stephe, 
Freemantle. The noble house of Lanen 
borough was founded by Sir Stephen 
Butler, Knt., who settled in Ireland 
temp. James I. He was one of the un- 
dertakers for the plantation of the pro- 
vince of Ulster ; and, having obtained - 
grant of two thousand acres of land in the 
county Cavan, erected a baronial castle 
of great strength there. Sir Stephen and 
his co-undertakers of the precinct of 
Loghtee commenced, according to their 
agreement, the plantation of a town, at 
Belturbet; and, in his time, thirty-five 
houses were erected, all inhabited by Bri- 
tish tenants, most of whom were trades- 
men, each having a house and garden- 
plot, with four acres of land, and com- 
mons for a certain number of cattle. 

Lawford, Rev. John Grant, second son of 
the late William Robinson Lawford, Esq. 
of Leighton Buzzard, Bedfordshire, at 
Brussels, in the 35th year of his age, 23rd 

Leahy, David, Esq. Mr. Leahy, by birth 
an Irishman, was called to the English 
bar by the Hon. Society of Gray's Inn. 
The learned gentleman joined theWestern 
Circuit : but, though in some practice, 
his success was not commensurate with 
the great ability he undoubtedly possessed. 
As a writer on literary, political, and le- 
gal subjects, Mr. Leahy was, however, ac- 
tively and continually employed ; and he 
was esteemed to possess such deep rooted 
forensic and constitutional knowledge, 
that he was chosen as one of the counsel 


in the defence' of Mr. O'Connell. The 
soundness of his arguments on that occa- 
sion was afterwards recognised by the judg- 
ment of the House of Lords. The vo- 
lume he subsequently published relative 
to the trial added much to his reputa- 
tion. On the recent establishment of the 
Local Courts, Mr. Leahy was appointed 
the Judge for the Greenwich and Lam- 
beth districts ; and it is much to be la- 
mented that he has been snatched away 
just as he had attained that position 
which his talents entitled him to hold. 
Mr. Leahy died on the 21st June, at his 
Chambers, in Mitre-Court buildings. 
The demise of this excellent person is the 
subject of deep regret to a very wide cir- 
cle of friends, to whom his high social, as 
well as mental qualifications, had en- 
deared him. 

Littleton, the Hon. Hiacinthe Anna, eldest 
dau. of Lord Hatherton, in the 34th year 
of her age, 10th July. 

Lynch, Dr. Jordan Roche, of Farringdon 
street. Distinguished for his advocacy of 
Sanitory Regulations, 24th June. 

Macdonell, Hugh, Esq., fur many years 
British Consul-General at Algiers, at 
Florence, on the 3rd June. 

Mac Neill, Catherine Alicia L. J. eldest 
surviving dau. of Jane Mac Neil! Hamil- 
ton, and the late D. H. Mac Neill Ha- 
milton, Esq. of Newgrove, county Down, 
Ireland, and Raploch, Lanarkshire, N.B. 
aged 22, on the 19th June. 

Maclean, General Sir Fitzroy, Bart. This 
gallant officer, a General in the Army, 
and Colonel of the 45th Regiment of 
Foot, at his residence in Cadogan place. 
Sir Fitzroy succeeded to the Baronetcy 
and the Chieftainship of the Macleans 
at the decease, in 1818, of his elder bro- 
ther, Sir Hector Maclean. He was twice 
married : first, to Mrs. Bishop, relict of J. 
Bishop, Esq. of Barbadoes, and secondly. 
to Frances, widow of Henry Champion, 
Esq. of Maling Deanery, Sussex. By 
the former he had two sons, Lieutenant- 
Colonel Charles Fitzroy Maclean, the 
present Baronet of Morvaren ; and Do- 
nald, of the Chancery Bar, late M.P. for 
Oxford. Sir Fitzroy was a full General, 
and wore a medal for his services at Gua- 
daloupe. The family, of which he was 
the representative, claimed remote anti- 
quity. Gaelic Antiquaries assert that its 
surname was originally Mac Gillian, and 
that it was derived irom the celebrated 
Highland warrior Gillian, who was deno- 
minated Gillian-ni-Tuoidh, from his ordi- 
nary weapon, a battle axe, which some of 
his descendants wear to this day in their 
crest, betwixt a laurel and cypress branch. 
He died on the 5th July. 

Murray, Captain James, formerly on the 
Bengal Establishment, and during the 
last twenty-eight years, superintendent for 

the London district of the recruiting staff 
of the Hon. East India Company, at 
Quatre Bras, near Dorchester, in his 67th 
year, 22nd June, 

Nicholl, Lieut.-Colonel Edward, late of the 
84th Regiment of Foot, in which he 
served for forty years in the East and 
West Indies, as well as in various other 
countries, at Adamsdown, the residence 
of his brother, near Cardiff, in his 7 1st 
yea-, 23th June. 

O'Conor Don, M.P. for the co. of Roscom- 
mon, and one of the Lords of the Trea- 
sury, of disease of the heart. This re- 
spected gentleman was born in May 1794, 
the elder son of the late Owen O'Conor 
Don, of Belanagare and Clonalis, by Jane 
his wife, dau. of James Moore, Esq. of 
Mount Browne, co. Dublin. He married 
27th August, 1824, Mary, dau. of Mau. 
rice Blake, Esq. of Tower Hill, co. Mayo, 
and has left two sons, and five daughters. 
Of his illustrious ancestry, we have given 
particulars under this Month's " Frag- 
ments of Family History." 21st July. 

Peacock, Mary, wife of Wilkinson Peacock, 
Esq. and eldest dau. of the late Colonel 
Affleck, of Cavendish Hall, Suffolk, at 
Thorpe Tylney, Lincolnshire. 8th July. 

Peters, James, jun. Esq. barrister_at-law, 
St. John's, eldest son of the Hon. Chas. 
Jeffrey Peters, Her Majesty's Attorney 
General for the province of New Bruns 
wick, at the residence of Robert Bell, Esq- 
Fountain-Bridge, Edinburgh, 3rd July. 

Phillips, Mary Anne Hawkes, wife of Phil- 
lip Loveil Phil'ips, Esq. M.D. of fever, at 
Arezzo, in Tuscany, on route from Rome 
to Florence, aged 33, 7lh June. 

Pollock, Sir David, Knt. Chief Justice of 
Bombay, in May last, at Bombay, of liver 
complaint, after a sojourn only of eight 
months in India, where he was appointed 
last year as Chief Judge at the Presidency 
of Bombay, in succession to Sir Henry 
Roper. Sir David Pollock who was elder 
brother of Chief Baron Pollock, of Gene- 
ral Sir George Pollock, and of Mr. J. H. 
Pollock, was born in 1780, and educated 
at Edinburgh Collie. In 1802, he wtss 
called to the Bar, and for many years 
went the Home Circuit. Besides parlia- 
mentary business, in which at one time 
he had extensive practice, Sir I>avid Pol- 
lock devoted considerable time to the 
Insolvent Debtor's Court, and some 
three or four years ago was appointed a 
Commissioner of that Court, which he 
continued to fill till last year, he was 
nominated to the Chief Justiceship of 
Bombay, in succession to Sir Henry 
Roper ; and few judges have given such 
universal satisfaction to all classes, both 
Native and European, or become so re- 
vered even in a short sojourn of eight 
months as the learned gentleman. Prayers 
were offered up by the native population 



for his restoration to health, and his 
funeral which took place on the 22nd was 
attended by the Governor of Bombay, 
the Coramander-in-Chief, Sir Erskine 
Perry, the Hon. J. P. Willoughby, the 
Advocate-General, and Dr. Lark worthy, 
as pall-bearers, besides many hundreds 
of sorrowing friends. Sir David was in 
his 68th year, was a Queen's Coun- 
sel, and a Bencher of the Middle Temple, 

Qnillinan, Mrs. wife of Edward Quillinan, 
Esq. This lady was the author of a 
" Journal of a few Months' Residence in 
Portugal," &c. recently published. She 
died of a rapid decline, at Rydal Mount, 
Ambleside, at the house of her father, 
William Wordsworth, Esq. (the laureate), 
9th July. 

Radcliffe, Mary, dau. of John Radcliffe, 
Esq. of Cheltenham, IGth June. 

Reay, Lord, after a short illness, aged 74, on 
the 8th July. His lordship, who died at 
his seat, Goldings, Herts, was eldest son 
of the Hon. George Mackay, of Skibo, 
M. P. Master of the Mint of Scotland, by 
Anne, his wife, daughter of Eric Suther- 
land, only son of the attaintedLord Duffus, 
and inherited the family honours at the 
decease of his cousin. Hugh, sixth Lord, 
in 1797. He was never married, and is, 
consequently, succeeded by his next bro- 
ther, the Hon. Alexander Mackay, Bar- 
rack Master at Malta, who married, in 
1809, Mrs. Ross, widow of David Ross, 
Esq. of Calcutta, and has Eric, and 
several other children. The very ancient 
family from which derived the nobleman 

' whose death we record held possessions in 
the north of Scotland seven centuries 
ago, which possessions were originally 
denominated Strathnaver, but more re- 
cently Lord Reay's country. The great 
influence, however, of the Mackays may 
be attributed to the celebrated Donald 
Mackay, characterised by historians as 
" a great general, and a wise and political 
gentleman." This personage was at the 
battle of Solway Moss, and returned with 
the King to Edinburgh three days after 
the conflict, when his Majesty bestowed 
upon him, in requital of his faithful 
services, the forfeited lands of several 
individuals, by charter dated 28th Nov. 
1845. Sir Donald Mackay, of Far, the 
first Lord Reay, was a distinguished sol- 
dier of his time, and took an active part 
during the ci vil war, in favour of Royalty ; 
but, being one of those excepted from 
pardon in the treaty between the Cove- 
nanters and King Charles, he was obliged 
to retire to Denmark, where he died, in 

Rudyerd, Colonel Samuel, of the Royal 
Artillery, at the residence of his brother- 

in-law, C. Richardson, Esq. Field House, 
Whitty, Yorkshire, 19th July. This 
distinguished officer, who served most 
gallantly under the Duke of Wellington 
in all his campaigns from India to the 
plains of Waterloo, descended lineally 
from the anicent family of Rudyard, of 
Rudyerd.hall, near Leek, in Staifordshire, 
where they were seated long before the 
Conquest, and of undoubted Saxon 
origin, and was connected with almost 
all the ancient barons and nobility of 
Great Britain, through their marriages 
with the Harringtons of Exton, &c., &c. 
Colonel Rudyerd was the son of the late 
General Rudyerd, of the Royal Engi- 
neers, and cousin of the late General Sir 
Charles Shepley, of the same corps, 
whose mother, Miss Jane Rudyerd, who 
married Captain Richard Shipley, of 
Copt hall, Luton, Beds, became heiress 
of that branch of the family, descending 
from Sir Benjamin Rudyerd, the cele- 
brated poet and speaker in the long par 
liament, who was the last surveyor of 
the court of wards and liveries) upon the 
death of her only brother Captain Benja- 
min Rudyerd, of the Coldstream Guards, 
aid-de camp to Lord Stair at the battle 
of Dettingen. Colonel Samuel Rudyerd, 
whose death we now record, being a 
descendant of Benjamin Rudyerd, Esq., 
of Westwoodhay, in Berks, the grand son 
of Benjamin Rudyerd, by his second 
marriage with Miss Beaumont of York- 
shire ; his first wife, from whom the late 
Sir Charles Shipley descended, having 
been the eldest daughter and co-heiress 
of Sir Benjamin Maddux of Worm ley, in 
Herts, Bar t. 

Slanev, Eliz.wife of Robt. A. Slariey, Esq., 
of Walford-manor, Shropshire, aged 62, 
20th July. Mrs. Slaney was only child 
of William Hawkins Muccleston, M.D., 
and sole heiress of her uncle, Joseph, 
Muccleston, Esq. of Walford, High She- 
riff of Shropshire, in 1788. Her mar- 
riage took place in 1812 : and its issue 
was three daughters, Elizabeth Frances, 
wife of Thomas Campbell Eyton, Esq., 
Mary, m. to Wm. Watkin Edw. Wynne, 
Esq. of Peniarth, and Frances Caroline. 

Stopford, Admiral, the Hon, Sir Robert, 
G.C.B., G.C.M.G., Vice-Admiral of the 
United Kingdom and Governor of 
Greenwich Hospital, in the 80th year of 
his age, 25th June. This distinguished 
officer, died on Friday morning, the 25th 
June, at Richmond, Surrey, whither he 
had removed for change of air. He was 
third son of James, second Earl of Cour- 
town, and uncle of the present peer. The 
deceased admiral was born in 1768. 
Entering the navy at an early age, he 
served as midshipman in the Prince 



George in Rodney's actions, and obtained j Col. Target, at Caen, France, 24th June. 

Tatham, Mrs. Sarah, of Bedford Place, 4th 

his commission as Lieutenant in 1785. 
He subsequently commanded succes. 
sively the Lowestoff", the Aquilon, and 
the Phaton, under Lords Howe and 
Cornwallis, and performed many gallant 
and important services to his country. 
In 1803, he was appointed to the Spencer, 
and was employed off Ferrol and Co- 
runna ; the following year he was nomi- 
nated Colonel of Marines; and, in 1806, 
participated in Sir John Duckworth's 
brilliant action off St. Domingo, where 
he was severely wounded. Captain Stop- 
ford's next service was in the Exhibition 
against Copenhagen, under Admiral Par- 
ker and Lord Nelson. Having been ad- 
vanced to the rank of Rear- Admiral, in 
1808, he was appointed to command the 
Channel Fleet, during which he block- 
aded a French squadron in Aix Roads ; 
for which exploit, and his conduct in an 
attack upon the enemy, he received the 
thanks of parliament. In 1810, Admiral 
Stopford was nominated to the command 
of the squadron at the Cape. Subse- 
quently, he commanded the naval forces 
at the capture of Java. In 1813, the 
gallant officer returned to England was 
madeaK.C.B. in 1815, and became Full 
Admiral in 1825> and a G.C.B. in 1831. 
Admiral Stopford continued to serve his 
country in the Mediterranean, where he 
held the naval command for some time,and 
was engaged at the capture of St. Jean 
d'Acre, in 1840. For his services on this 
occasion he was a second time honoured 
with the thanks of parliament. After 
retiring from the command in the Medi- 
terranean, Sir Robert was appointed 
Governor of Greenwich Hospital, wl ich 
office he held up to the time of his de- 
cease. Besides the British honours con- 
ferred upon the gallant Admiral, he re- 
ceived from the Emperor Nicholas the 


Temple, Sir Grenville, formerly Lieutenant 
Colonel of the 15th Hussars, died at 
Constance, in Switzerland, aged 48, on the 
7th June. He was the eldest son of the 
late Sir Grenville Temple, 9th Baronet, 
whose father, Sir John Temple, succeeded 
to the title in 1786, at the decease of his 
kinsman, Sir Richard Temple. The 
Baronet just deceased was born 20th July, 
1799, married 5th May, J829, Mary, 
daughter of George Baring, Esq., brother 
of Lord Ashburton, by whom he leaves a 
large family, the eldest son of which is the 
present Sir Grenville Leofric Temple, 
Bart., an officer in the Royal navy, born 
in 1830. The ancient family of Temple 
derives its surname from the manor of 
Temple, co. Leicester, and deduces its 
descent from Leofric, Earl of Chester, 
who lived in the reign of Edward the 
Confessor. The Leofric married the 
celebrated Godiva, of Coventry notoriety, 
who is said to have appeased the wrath 
of her offended lord, and to have obtained 
a restitution of privileges for the good 
citizens of Coventry, by exhibiting on 
horseback, in the simple habiliments of 
Eve, to the confusion of an unlucky knight 
of the needle, whom tradition hath stricken 
blind for presuming to peep. Certain it is 
that pictures of the earl and his countess 
were set up in the south window of Trinity 
Church, in that ancient city, about the 
reign of Richard II., more than three 
centuries after the occurrence of the 
supposed event ; his Lordship holding a 
charter in the right hand, with the words, 

I, Lurick, for love of thee 
Do set all Coventry toll-free. 

And there is still a yearly procession of a 
naked figure observed by the grateful 
citizens on Friday after Trinity Sunday. 

Order of St. George, Second Class; from Walker, Reginald John, Esq. a Lieut, in 

the King of Prussia, the Grand Cross of 
the Red Eagle; and was nominated a 
Knight Commander of the Order of Maria ' 
Theresa, in 1841. Sir Robert Stopford 
married, 29th June, 1809, Mary, dau. 
of Robert Fanshawe, Esq., by which lady 

the Bengal Engineers, and Assistant Sur- 
veyor in the great trigonometrical survey 
of India. He was the fifth son of the 
late John Walker, Esq. of Purbrook-park, 
Hants, at Bernangora, near Darjeling, in 
the East Indies, aged 24, 24th April. 

he leaves three sons, viz. Robert Fan- Walton, Mr., the Stage Manager of the 

shawe, Captain in the Navy; James 
Jo:m, also a Captain in the Navy ; and 
Arthur Fanshawe; and several daughters 
of whom the eldest, Christiana Fanshawe, 
is married to the Rev. William F. Doug- 
las, third son of Sir H. Douglas, Bart. ; 
and the third, Henrietta Maria, is widow 
of Lord Henry Russell, R.N., who died 
in 1842. 

Stratton, William, Esq. at Aberdeen, aged 
87, 13th July. 

Target, Madame S. M. widow of the late 

Princess' Theatre, and an actor of more 
than ordinary merit there. His death, 
. which occurred on the 17th instant, hap- 
pened under melancholy circumstances. 
He had been suffering from a painful 
disease, and he was in the habit of taking 

x laudanum and morphia to allay the 
torment. An over dose proved fatal to 
him : he died in his 48th year. 

Yates. John Henry, Esq. at Woburn- square, 
aged 37, 21st June. 




THE theory of the law is, that surnames, like air or light, are publici juris, 
subjects in which even occupation and possession do not give exclusive 
property ; the claim to bear peculiar cognizances or arms was, it is pro- 
bable, in the origin of the practice, similarly regarded. 

The assumption or change of a surname is at the present day, and has 
been always, notwithstanding a vulgar notion to the contrary, a matter 
of common law right ; nor is it restricted by anything but the potent in- 
fluence of public opinion, which has very properly always attached a 
certain degree of discredit to any attempt to confuse identity, or oblite- 
rate the traces of a past career. Whenever, therefore, upon just cause a 
British subject seeks to take a surname, not his by birth, he for the most 
part does so by adopting a course in itself of the highest notoriety ; in 
other words, he obtains the license of the Crown, which is gazetted in 
due form, or he obtains an Act of Parliament. 

" Welsh families/' says Mr. Grimaldi *, " are more- known by their arms 
than by their names, and even in English families, many persons of the 
same house can only now be classed with their proper families, by an 
inspection of the arms they bore on their seals, shields, and the like." 
So in the popular commotions at Florence, the cry of the adherents of 
the Medici was taken, not from the surname but the arms, of that family, 
Palle, Palle." 

At first, armorial bearings were probably like surnames, assumed 
by each warrior at his free will and pleasure 5 and as his object would 
be to distinguish himself and his followers from others, his cognizance 
would be respected by the rest, either out of an innate courtesy or a 
feeling of natural justice, disposing men to recognise the right of first 
occupation, or really from a positive sense of the inconvenience of being 
identified or confounded with those to whom no common tie united them ; 
where, however, remoteness of stations kept soldiers aloof, and extensive 
boundaries, and different classes of enemies from without, subdivided the 
force of a kingdom into many distinct bands and armies, opportunities of 
comparing and ascertaining what ensigns had been already appropriated 
would be lost, and it well might happen, even in the same country, that 
various families might be found unconsciously using the same arms. 

* Origines Genealogicee, p. 82. 



And so it was with the three English families of Car mi now, Scrope, and 
Grosvenor, the members of each of which were probably ignorant that 
there were any rival claimants to their heraldic honours, until by the 
French and Scottish wars they were brought together, and confronted 
upon the same field and in the same encampment. 

The Court of Chivalry, it may be presumed, offered the first barrier to 
a party assuming the martial cognizances of another,but the assumption of 
new arms by one who never before had borne any, received its first check, as 
far as we know, from the writ of Henry V., which regulated coat armour, 
and prohibited their use, except where justified by ancestral right and 
use, (jure antecessorio), or by grants from competent authority. It 
appears from the commencement of that writ, that many persons had 
assumed these insignia, who neither by themselves nor their ancestors 
had previously enjoyed them. There is nothing to show what sense was 
attached to the vague expression jus antecessorium, or by what evidence 
it was expected to be supported. 

Our neighbours on the Continent appear to have preceded, or, at least, 
excelled, us in the martial exercises of the tourney and joust, and an early 
chronicle records of Prince Henry, the son of Henry I., who was after- 
wards drowned at sea, that he was in the habit of visiting France every 
third year, in order to take part " in conflictibus Gallicis." It was 
Richard I. who perceiving the inferiority of his subjects in such encoun- 
ters, rectified the evil by his ordinances for jousts and tournaments. 

The subsequent prevalence of these fashionable recreations, mimicking 
" War's magnificently stern array," was not unlikely to bring into fre- 
quent use one of the functions of this Court of Chivalry, that which re- 
spected the regulating and marshalling of coat armour. 

Armorial bearings are to the eye what names are to the ear j in the 
first assumer or grantee, they may be taken to resemble Christian names, 
suggestive merely of the personal history and private qualities of the 
bearer; in their descent, however, they are quasi surnames and additions 
of honour, and become the external expression, not merely of individual 
but of collective worth and prowess, and of connexion with an ancestry, 
which could in no other mode be so becomingly and inobtrusively pre- 
sented to observation, as by those silent yet eloquent mementos of an 
extant or a bygone race, crests and quarterings. 

The bearing of coats of arms has been most whimsically styled "that 
extraordinary phrenzy of the human mind." Would we know the 
martial purpose of the invention ? It is at hand. " The end of heraldic 
insignia," says Borghini, " is to distinguish the bearer from his ene- 
mies, and make him recognizable by his friends." A good custom 
may survive its utility, but no custom ever became universal that 
was not founded upon some general principles of public conve- 
nience. In this respect a custom differs from a law, which may in 
particular cases have originated in the tyranny, the lust, the shame, the 
malignity of a despot. A custom is a different thing j it must have 
originated in necessity, and been sanctioned by general consent. Why, 
however, do we find so high a degree of importance attached to the 
preserving intact a right to bear particular arms ? Those arms were an 
evidence, popularly speaking, almost conclusive, not merely of descent 
but of nobility. This was one reason j another was, that in the earlier 
period of our history, a right to coat armour carried with it important 
privileges as to the use of offensive and defensive arms in the case of 



trials by battle; it gave also the solid advantages of "honour, repu- 
tation, and place," and these are the very terms used in the Statute of 
Precedence passed in the reign of King Henry VIII. " There was one 
James Parker, a servant in court to King Henry VII., that had accused 
Hugh Vaughan (one of the gentleman ushers of the said king), unto the 
king of some undutiful words spoken by him of the said king. Where- 
upon the person accused challenged combat with the accuser ; and be- 
cause he was not a coat armour gentleman, Sir John Wriotheslye, then 
principal king-at-arms, gave unto the said Hugh Vaughan a coat armour, 
with helm and timber, the 14th of October, 1490, anno 6 Hen. VII. 
Whereupon the said king sent for the said Garter, and demanded of him, 
whether he had made any such patent or no? who answered, that he had 
made such arms. Whereupon the king's highness, in his most royal 
person, in open justice at Richmond, before all his lords, allowed and 
admitted the said grant made by Garter, and likewise allowed the said 
Hugh Vaughan to run with the said James Parker, who was at the said 
time slain by the said Vaughan in the said jousts. 7 '* Had this grant of 
arms not been allowed, it would rather seem that Vaughan would have 
had to meet his steel-clad opponent in a simple buff jerkin, and with 
inferior weapons. 

No doubt, in the present day, all the advantages of the institution 
have not survived 

" The old world changeth, yielding place to new, 
And God fulfils himself in many ways, 
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world." 

TENNYSON'S Mone d' Arthur. 

This is an age of pictorial illustration, and when we appreciate the ad- 
vantages of being made to comprehend at a glance what it would other- 
wise require hours of steady attention, as listeners or as readers, to ob- 
tain an idea of, no wonder that heraldry has again become in some 
measure a popular study - } not only does it breathe the spirit of a by- 
gone, a generous age, and powerfully suggest its influence, which to ap- 
preciate is to share j but its devices are a compendious mode of con- 
veying information upon an interesting subject. 

" Would that I were a painter, to be grouping 
All that the poet drags into detail." BYRON. 

How much historical description and genealogical narrative does a 
little herald painting save us ! But it is not merely on this score that 
the present practice is to be vindicated. The genealogical utility of 
ancient armorial bearings and quarterings has long been recognized by 
our lawyers. " I know three families," says Biglandf, " who have ac- 
quired estates by virtue of preserving the arms and escutcheons of their 
ancestors." So in the Huntingdon peerage case (p. 359), a very old 
armorial shield, emblazoned with the armorial ensigns of the Earls of 
Huntingdon, which included those of Stanley, was received as evidence 
of a marriage between the two families. But if this utility is thus ad- 
mitted at the present day, what greater importance must have been 
attached to such evidences at a time when the heralds were still unincor- 

* Hearne's Collections, vol. ii. p. 168. 

Biglaml on Parochial Registers, 1767. 
Q 2 


porated, and no such thing as parochial registers existed, when all knights 
could not read, nor all nobles write ? 

When Sir William Scrope saw a Frenchman in his bearings, well might 
that doughty knight feel touchy on the subject : the force of this very 
natural feeling was admitted by Cromwell, Earl of Essex, at a much later 
period. He had no paternal shield of arms, and when some obsequious 
heralds would have entitled him to the arms of Cromwell of Lincolnshire, 
extinct long before, his answer was, " He would not wear another man's 
coat, for fear the owner should pluck it off his ears ;" and he took a fresh 
grant of arms. 

The question, What's in a name? implies a sophism that the blindness 
of passionate love could alone overlook. What's in an armorial bearing? 
exclaims many a man who does not scorn to bear, without right, the 
thing that he affects to despise. Is he curious to learn the answer of 
Anglo-Norman antiquity, let him consult the roll in the case of Scrope 
and Grosvenor. 

Although some inaccuracies have crept into the accounts of the early 
branches of the family of Grosvenor, owing to genealogists having 
occasionally confounded the Latin patronymics of the two distinct families 
of Venables and Grosvenor, (Venatores and Grossovenatores), there is 
still light enough to enable us to distinguish the remote antiquity of either 
stock. The family of Grosvenor at a very early date, long before the right 
of Sir Robert Grosvenor to bear the arms " azure a bend or" was chal- 
lenged by Sir Richard Scrope, had become divided into the branches of 
the Grosvenors of Hulme (of which was Sir Robert the defendant in the 
suit) and the Grosvenors of Budworth. The antiquity of the latter 
branch is undeniable; its founder Robert le Grosvenor appears in an 
ancient charter as the grantee of the manor of Budworth from Hugh 
Kevelioc Earl of Chester 1160 1181. At the time of the controversy 
now under review, this branch had no longer a male lineal representative, 
but its honours had descended upon coheiresses who had intermarried into 
some of the oldest houses in Cheshire, the Venables of Bradwall and 
Alvanley, the Bromleys and the Del Meres. The precise point of con- 
nexion between the Budworth and the Hulme branches, is by the confes- 
sion of family and county historians not now discoverable.* But that 
the connexion did once exist is evident by the whole tenor of the Grosve- 
nor depositions in the suit of arms. 

According to the pedigree of the Grosvenors of Hulme, compiled by 
Sir Peter Leycester, which as it accords with the depositions of the 
Abbot of Vale Royal in this cause, Leycester probably drew from the 
same source, their first progenitor was Gilbert le Grosvenor a nephew 
of Hugh Lupus, first Earl of Chester, himself a nephew of the Conqueror. 
Of Gilbert a Robert was son and heir, to whom succeeded his son 
Henry, who had a son upon whom the representation of the Hulme 
branch devolved. 

There appears some confusion as to the name of this the fourth person- 
age in descent, the Abbot of Vale Royal says Raufe; an ancient deed terms 
his son Richard, the son of Handle (filius Ranulfi Grossovenatoris.) Sir 
Peter Leycester says Raufe or Randle Grosvenor ; Collins falls into palpa- 
ble error here, introducing an unauthorized Robert; Ormerod suggests 
that Ralph and Randle may have been grandfather and father of Richard 

* See Ormerod's Cheshire, vol. ii. p. 115, note c. 



\vhodied about 1269, and from whom the descent is clear ; hut the con- 
jecture, however plausible, cannot be presumed to be accurate in opposi- 
tion to the positive deposition of a witness so near the time and so likely 
to be well informed as the Abbot of Vale Royal. 

Raufe or Randle is said by one of the deponents to have been en- 
gaged in 1141, on the part of his kinsman and local prince Randle II., 
in the battle of Lincoln where he wore the arms before mentioned, and to 
have been also engaged in the battle in which the said earl was taken 
prisoner in 1143. That he wore the bearings in question in the battle 
of Lincoln, may be believed by those who esteem heraldic devices as of 
that antiquity, but the character of human testimony being substantial 
truth under circumstantial variety, the whole evidence of the witness is 
not to be altogether disbelieved because in this particular questionable or 
inaccurate. For if so, to be consistent we must also discredit the 
evidences of the Scrope witnesses who, anxious to speak for the antiquity 
of the arms, refer their origin to the reign of a fabulous Prince 

Richard le Grosvenor (the son of Ralph or Randle) from whom the 
descent is clear, lived 1269, and left a son, 

Robert, who was sheriff of Cheshire 12, 13 and 14 Edward I., he died 
1284 : by his wife Margery he left a son, 

Robert Grosvenor, of Ruddeheath, under age 21 Edward I.; according 
to the evidence of Leycester he had served and borne the arms in 
question in Scotland temp. Edward II. He died about 1 342, having been 
twice married ; by his second wife, Emma,daughter of William Mobberley, 
coheiress to her mother and to Sir Raufe Mobberley, he left a son 
Raufe Grosvenor, Esq., who died about 30 Edward III., 1356, and was 
buried in Nether Peover ; by his wife Joan he left a son, the defendant in 
the cause of arms. 

Sir Robert Grosvenor, Knight, was under age at the time of his father's 
death, and became ward of Sir John Daniell, who married him to his 
daughter Joan , She either died before he came to maturity or before 
she had any issue by him, and he subsequently married Joan, daughter 
of Sir Robert Pulford and sister and heiress of John Pulford and widow 
of Thomas son of John de Belgrave, a match which appears to have 
occasioned some little stir, for we find one of the adverse witnesses (Sir 
Matthew Redman) deposing that the first time he heard speak of Sir 
Robert was when some one observed that he was to marry the Lady of 

There is good ground for supposing that this marriage and that of Sir 
Robert's grandfather with the heiress of Mobberley, coupled with the 
failure of the male line of the Grosvenors of Budworth, were the chief 
cause of the prominence of the Hulme branch. 

The direct line of the Grosvenors of Hulme terminating also in 
coheiresses, the inheritance of the name remained with Ralph Grosvenor 
Esq. of Eaton, jure uxoris the lineal descendant of the defendant in the 
suit of arms and the progenitor of the present noble house of Grosvenor. 

In the year 1395, John Lord Lovel challenged the arms of Thomas Lord 
Moriey, and in the first instance by word of mouth j the defendant com- 
plaining of this course, the Court directed the claimant to reduce his 

* See deposition of Sir Thomas Fychet, vol. ii. p. G2. f Vol. ii. p. 460, 


challenge to writing.* All the proceedings in the Scrope case seem to 
have been in writing, with a single exception, for from a memorandum of 
the proceedings in a MS. in the Lansdowne Collection, 85, pi. 758, it 
appears that in the first instance Sir Robert Grosvenor appealed from the 
sentence of the Constable to the king orally (sub certa forma verborum 
viva voce) the appeal was afterwards embodied in a more regular form in 
writing. In that first mentioned case the parties consented to the follow- 
ing mode of proofs. " Sepultures Testimonies of Abbots and other 
ecclesiastical persons and other honourable witnesses who have had notice 
of their ancestors and antiquity, and paynted tombs, testaments and 
other evidences, besides the testimonies of Lords, Knights, Esquires of 
honour and gentlemen having knowledge of arms, and no other men of 
common or lower estate, and all the witnesses to be sworn except the 
Dukes of Lancaster, York, and Earl of Derby." 

In the Scrope and Grosvenor case a somewhat similar course seemsto 
have been adopted, nor do we believe that of the 40O witnesses who 
made depositions even one was of lower estate than " a gentleman 
having knowledge of arms/' The first and most puissant witness for 
Scrope was John of Gaunt, we give the deposition entire. 

" John, by the grace of God, KING OF CASTILE AND LEON, DUKE OF 
LANCASTER, being prayed, and, according to the Law of Arms, required, 
by the proctor of Sir Richard le Scrope, to testify the truth between the 
said Sir Richard and Sir Robert Grosvenor in a controversy between them 
concerning the arms ' Azure a bend Or,' do verily testify, that at the 
time when We were armed in battles and other journeysf in divers 
countries, We have seen and known that the said Sir Richard hath borne 
his arms ' Azure, a bend Or ;' and that many of his name and lineage 
have borne the same name and arms, on banner, pennon, and coat armour ; 
and that We have heard from many noble and valiant men, since deceased, 
that the said arms were of right the arms of his ancestors and himself 
at the time of the Conquest and since. And, moreover, We say and 
testify, that at the last expedition in France of our most dread lord and 
father, on whom God have mercy, a controversy arose concerning the 
said arms between Sir Richard le Scrope aforesaid, and one called Car- 
minow of Cornwall, which Carminow challenged those arms of the 
said Sir Richard, the which dispute was referred to six knights, now as 
IJ think, dead, who upon true evidence found the said Carminow to be 
descended of a lineage armed ' Azure abend Or,' since the time of King 
Arthur ; and they found that the said Sir Richard was descended of a 
right line of ancestry armed with the said arms, ' Azure a bend Or,' since 
the time of King William the Conqueror j and so it was adjudged that 

* See the proceedings Harl. MS. 4268. One question raised by the replication in this 
cause was whether a man can grant or sell his arms to the prejudice of his posterity. 

t In the original " journee." This word is generally used to describe an action with 
the enemy in the field, of rather less importance than a general battle. It has been 
anglicized by " journey," William of Worcester, speaking of the battle of St. Albans 
in 1455, says, '* All the lords that died at the journey are buried at St. Albans." Paston 
Letters, i. 109. '* Anno 12 Henry VI. This same yere aboughte Witsontyd, the 
Lollardes of Prage were distroyd, for at too journeys there were sclayn of them mo 
thane xx tt M 1 with there cheveteynes." Chronicle of London, 4to. 1827, p. 120. The 
word journey also frequently occurs in another chronicle of the sixteenth century , where 
an account is given of the " journies that were done after the Kyng landid at Caleis," 
(anno 8 Hen. VI.) whence its import may be fully understood. Ibid. p. 170. 

{ It is remarkable that in this part of his deposition, Lancaster is made to speak in 
the first person singular. 


both might bear the arms entire. But We have not seen or heard that 
the said Sir Robert, or any of his name, bore the said arms before the 
last expedition in Scotland with our lord the King." 

The evidence of the ecclesiastics, Abbots and Priors, on each side is 
most important upon the point of descent, but this we must pass over. 
Neither have we space for any comment upon the interesting testimony 
of Chaucer. 

" Geoffrey Chaucer, Esq., of the age of forty and upwards, armed 
twenty-seven years, being asked whether the arms, Azure, a bend Or, 
belonged to Sir Richard Scrope, said yes, for he saw him so armed in 
France before the town of Retters, and Sir Henry Scrope armed in the 
same arms with a white label, and with banner ; and the said Sir Richard 
armed in the entire arms, and so during the whole expedition, until the 
said Geoffrey was taken. Being asked how he knew that the arms 
appertained to Sir Richard, said that he had heard old kaights and 
esquires say that they had had continual possession of the said arms j 
and that he had seen them displayed on banners, glass, paintings, and 
vestments, and commonly called the arms of Scrope. Being asked 
whether he had ever heard of any interruption or challenge made by Sir 
Robert Grosvenor or his ancestors, said no, but that he was once in 
Friday Street, London, and walking through the street, he observed a 
new sign hanging out with these arms thereon, and inquired ' what inn 
that was that had hung out these arms of Scrope ?' and one answered him, 
saying, ' They are not hung out, Sir, for the arms of Scrope, nor painted 
there for those arms, but they are painted and put there by a Knight of 
the county of Chester, called Sir Robert Grosvenor j* and that was the 
first time that he ever heard speak of Sir Robert Grosvenor, or his an- 
cestors, or of any one bearing the name of Grosvenor." 

Thomas de Horneby, called by Grosvenor, said that he knew neither 
Sir Robert Grosvenor nor his ancestors, not being himself of the county 
of Chester.* 

William Hesilrigg, Esq. had seen Scropes armed in the army at 
Cressy, where there were many good knights of the county of Chester, 
and many good archers, who neither at that time nor afterwards gainsaid 
the said arms. 

Sir Andrew Luttriell, senior, Knight, had never heard any good or ill 
of Grosvenor or his ancestors. 

Amongst the deponents, of whom notices are reserved by Sir Harris 
Nicolas for a future and concluding volume, is Johan de Holand, Esquier. 
We conclude this individual to have been the John de Holand whose 
singular adventures with a Frenchman of the name of Roye is men- 
tioned by Froissard. Engaged together in a joust of arms, John de 
Holland's lance three times bore away the helmet of his antagonist, leaving 
him bareheaded but without injury ; upon examination it was discovered 
that the Frenchman designedly omitted the usual fastenings that attached 
the casque to the armour. Complaint was made of this proceeding as 
unfair, but John of Gaunt, in whose presence the matter occurred, refused 
to interfere, although he seems to have deemed it an improper use of 
the defensive arms 5 and from a subsequent passage in Froissard one is 
led to believe that the trick was several times afterwards practised. 

Sir John Gyldesburgh deposes that when he was twelve years old and 

* Vol. ii. p. 303. 


went to school at Oxenford he saw there the commencement of a clerk 
hearing the name Le Scrope, and that there were trumpeters there 
having attached to their trumpets pennoncels with the said arms, and 
the clerks demanded whose arms these were, when it was stated that they 
were the arms of Le Scrope. 

Another of the Scrope witnesses was John Lord Lovel, already referred 
to, as himself engaged in a similar cause of arms. 

Another deponent is a Sir Ralph Vernon, Knight, perhaps the illegiti- 
mate son, who yet succeeded to his father's interest in the barony of 
Shipbrooke by grant from his father and sister, he survived to the age of 
150 years, and is styled in Cheshire collections, the long liver and Old Sir 
Ralph. He outlived sons, grandsons, and great grandsons ; his great- 
great-grandson Sir Ralph Vernon, Knight, called young Sir Ralph, suc- 
ceeded him in his estates. Old Sir Ralph the deponent, it is presumed, 
had for his second wife, (some say concubine,) Maud Grosvenor, by several 
pedigrees made the sister of Robert Grosvenor of Budworth. 

According to an entry of Augustine Vincent preserved in Woodnoth's 
Collections, p. 58, b., the age would seem as correctly given. 

" This was s r Raufe Vernon yo Olde, the quick levet ** years and x yeare ; 
and he had to his first wife one Mary yo lords doghter of Dacre, and he had 
issue by her on s r Raufe yo Vernon of Hanewell, Maister Richard persone 
of Stockport, oy two sonnes Nicholl and Hugh yo quick were both freres 
and two daughters Agatha and Rose. Then deghet the foreset Mary and 
after her death yo foreset s r Raufe tooke to pa'neore one Maude yo Gros- 
venor and had issue by her Richard and Robert, bastards." 

We have not been able to find any other knight of the family of 
Vernon whose Christian name coincides, that would better correspond 
with the deponent Raufe Vernon, Chival'. It is remarked in the parti- 
cular instance of Chaucer, that his age in the deposition was not given 
with accuracy ; the same may be true of Vernon, who, if he was the 
party in question, must then have been much older than forty-six years, 
and would hardly have been justified in styling himself as de 1'age de 46 et 
plus, when he must have completed double that period : very old gentle- 
men are, however, sometimes loth to admit the precise day of their 
birth, and, perhaps, this shrewd old knight, knowing that a date fre- 
quently fixes a fact, wished the illegitimacy of his origin to be lost in 
the mist of years : vain hope, stands it not recorded in judicial records 
and county collections ! 

The deposition of John Thirlewalle is so remarkable in many respects, 
that we cannot omit, even at the risk of an almost unreasonable pro- 
lixity, to give a portion of it at length. His father, if his testimony or 
the fidelity of the copyist of the roll be not impeachable, attained so ad- 
vanced a period of life as to make him a worthy competitor with " Olde 
Sir Ralph Vernon," already alluded to, in the race of longevity $ hut it 
must be remembered, that in a case of this kind, it would be the object 
of a party to procure the evidence of the oldest witnesses their greater 
age lending an additional value to their testimony. 

" John Thirlewalle, of the age of fifty-four, armed thirty-two years 
and more, being asked whether the arms Azure, a bend Or, belonged to 
Sir Richard Scrope, said, certainly, and that he would well prove it by 
evidence ; for the grandfather of the said Sir Richard, who was named 
William Le Scrope, was made a knight at Falkirk in Scotland under the 
banner of the good King Edward with the Longshanks, as his (the De- 


ponent's) father told and shewed him before his death, for his father was 
through old age bedridden, and could not walk for some time before his 
decease 3 and whilst he so lay he heard some one say that people said 
that the father of Sir Richard was no gentleman because he was the 
King's Justice ; and his (Deponent's) father called his sons before him, 
of whom he the said John was the youngest of all his brethren, and said, 
' My sons, I hear that some say that Sir Henry Scrope is no great gen- 
tleman because he is a man of the law, but I tell you certainly, that his 
father was made a knight at Falkirk in these arms, Azure, a bend Or, 
and they are descended from great and noble gentlemen j and if any one 
say otherwise, do ye testify that I have said so of truth, upon faith and 
loyalty j and if I were young I would hold and maintain my saying to 
the death.' And his (the Deponent's) father, when he died, was of the 
age of seven score and five, [** ans & v.] and was when he died the 
oldest esquire of all the North, and had been armed during sixty-nine 
years, and has been dead forty-four years." 

Here we have another indication of the military feeling', so prevalent 
in that age, that prompted men to disparage the law, as if gentle blood 
and that profession were hardly compatible ; men said, " Sir Henry 
Scrope is no gentleman, because he is a man of the law." " He is not a 
gentleman, but the King's Justice." And yet, perhaps, in the particular 
instance, it was only an exemplification of the coxcombry of the young 
" bloods " of the time, which received a fitting rebuke from the dying 
lips of the aged warrior, the veteran esquire, " the oldest of all the 
North," who had seen Scrope wielding with credit both the pen and the 
sword, and, perhaps, had heard him priding himself, in spite of the sneers 
of his illiterate comrades, on the rare union of these opposite accom- 
plishments, and mentally ejaculating with Dante's hero, 

" Assai con senno feci e con la spada." 

And so even in this age (how different !) our young cocks, to borrow an 
expression of Sir Walter Scott, in a letter tvi his son, crow after the 
same fashion, and the man of action derides the man of contemplation, 
'* the patient bookworm," and sneers at the process 

" Slow, exhausting thought 
And hiving wisdom with each studious year." BYRON. 

Not so the truly wise. In a later but not an unchivalrous age, that hero 
whose ashes still lie (shame to Scotland) in a nameless grave, upon 
whose shoulders the mantle of loyal and chivalrous feeling descended, as 
to a legitimate self-elected champion, the great Montrose, scorned not 
the double grace, and thus addressed the object of his affections : 

" For if no faithless action stain, 

Thy truth and plighted word, 
I'll make thee famous with my pen, 
And glorious with my sword." 

To return. Little did those scornful men foresee, that it would not be 
long before members of the profession of which they affected to think so 
lightly would be self-dubbed, and without question, " Esquires by office;" 
nay, would be entitled to take rank, by the sanction of the Earl Marshal 
himself, with their military rivals : a consideration calculated to make 
those sturdy soldiers now turn round in their graves! 

On the Continent, it appears from Selden (Titles of Honor), that it 


was at one time much doubted, whether a civilian could be invested with 
the gold spurs of knighthood ; until Bartolus or Baldus, we forget 
which, settled it in the affirmative. It might be interesting to learn the 
reasons that swayed him in so deciding. 

The questions proposed to the deponents of Sir Richard Scrope would 
seem to have been the following : 

Do the arms az. with a bend or belong, or ought they of right to be- 
long, to Sir Richard Scrope ? Have you heard or seen that the ancestors 
of Sir Richard have borne the said arms ; and if so, have you heard by 
what title or right they have borne them ? Have you heard who was 
the first ancestor of Sir Richard Scrope who used them? Sometimes is 
superadded the question, where the witness is supposed to incline to the 
defence, Are you of the affinity or blood of Sir Robert Grosvenor ? 

Some witnesses said, that Scrope's ancestor came over with William 
the Conqueror j others, that he was temp Edward the Confessor j 
others, that he came with Robert de Gant at the Conquest; others, that 
he had borne the arms from King Arthur. Lord Grey de Ruthen said, 
that he knew nothing of the Grosvenors, but that he had once purchased 
from " one Emma Grovenour a black mare for twenty-two pounds." 
This Emma Grosvenor was, as we have seen, the heiress of Mobberley, 
who married the grandfather of the defendant. 

When Sir William Brereton was called on behalf of Sir Richard 
Scrope, and sworn, neither the entreaty of the proctor nor the admoni- 
tion of the commissioners could induce him to open his lips to give 
testimony; silence, says Sir Harris Nicolas, explained by his relationship 
to the Grosvenors. He was fined 20/. for his contumacy. 

With John Leycester,Esquier, we confess we think that the author deals 
somewhat harshly, in attributing to him any undue feeling, in his protes- 
tations of ignorance to the questions proposed to him; for those ques- 
tions respected, as we have shown, merely the right of Sir Richard 
Scrope, nor do we see why his admission, when examined for the 
defendant, that he was his cousin in the third or fourth degree, should 
make us conclude that the deponent had wilfully swerved from the truth 
in his first examination. 

The Scrope witnesses, for the most part, speak not merely to the 
rights of Sir Richard Scrope, but to their ignorance, not only of the 
rights but of the existence, either of Sir Robert or his family. There is, 
however, one notable exception in the person of a member of the illus- 
trious house of Percy, Sir Thomas Percy, afterwards Earl of Worcester, 
brother of the Earl of Northumberland, who, although he gives strong 
testimony to the Scrope right, yet admits that he has heard 'that Sir 
Robert Grosvenor was a gentleman of high degree (grants gentilx 
home). On the Grosvenor side, the negative evidence as to Scrope's 
rights was almost equally strong, and some of the deponents even went 
so far as to say, they had never heard of Sir Richard, a species of reta- 
liation somewhat amusing, but which, from the distinguished position of 
th^ noble plaintiff, must have almost argued themselves unknown. 

Robert de Stanlegh, Esquire, had heard since the suit, that the said 
Sir Richard Scrope, and Henry his father, had borne the said arms, but 
no other of their progenitors before them. 

Richard Talbot says, that he had heard many say that Sir Richard 
Scrope was only the third in the line of his ancestors who had borne the 
said arms. 


In one instance, that of Sir Thomas Mandevill, whose name is not 
upon the roll of witnesses, the evidence of a witness was sent to the 
Constable and Marshal in the form of a letter, which Sir Harris Nicolas 
found in the Harleian Collection. We give another similar testimonial 
of the Earl of Oxford at length, from a transcript also in one of the 
Harleian MSS., 1178, 436, not because any new fact is stated, or any 
additional light thrown upon the question litigated, but because it illus- 
trates the loose course of proceeding in the Court of Chivalry, which ad- 
mitted, it would seem, " all evidence of an honourable and authentic 
nature except battle, which was in this case expressly excluded," the 
reason being, that the dispute was susceptible of establishment by oral 
and written testimony, and therefore battle, which was an appeal to the 
decision of God on the failure of human evidence, could not, upon the 
customary rules, be resorted to ; but the chief reason why we insert this 
document is, because Sir Harris Nicolas has neither given it in his 
notes, nor even alluded to its existence. 

It is entitled " A letter testimoniall," but is somewhat strangely de- 
scribed in the Harleian Catalogue as " Literse Patentes Alberici de Veer 
Com. Oxoniensis, quibus testimonium rogatus adhibuit suum, in causa 
Armorum ventilata, inter Ricardum le Scrope et Robertum Grosvenour, 
dat. 11 die Martij, ann. 14 R. K. Richardi II." 

It commences 

"As honorables S rs Constable et Mareshall d'Engleterre Aubry de Veer 
hono rs et reverence. Pur ceo q. Mon sr Richard le Scrop a chalenge 
Mons r Robert Grovenour en la viage nostre S r le Roy darrein fait en 
Escoce portant ses armes d'azure ove bende d'ore, et a poursue centre 
le dit MODS'. Robert en vre. honorable Court de Chivalrie, come ley et 
raison de armes denmunde selon 1'ordinance roial fait devant le dit Chi- 
valrie tanq' ati temps q. vous lui avez ajuge de faire son prove contre le 
dit Mons r Robert par tons proves honorables et autentiques forsprist le bataille 
q. vous eschuez en tons cases ou vous pouvez avoir autre prouve. Et sur ceo 
m'a requis de vous certifier la conissana que je ay en ladite matiere. Si 
vous certifie et tesmoigne a verite par certes rnes lettres ouertees, exse- 
lees de mon seal q. en la temps que jay este arme en batailles et autres 
journees jay voir et conu q. le dit Mons r Richard a porte ses ditz armes 
d'azure ove une bend d'ore et plusieurs de son norn et linage qui ont 
portez mesme les armes ove differences come braunches de mesme les 
nom et armes et si en band, penon et cotearmure, et ny qie de mes aun- 
cestres q. en mesme le maniere ses armes susditz ount este portez en 
leur temps par les auncestres de dit Mons r Richard. Et Unques en mon 
temps n'ay ven le dit Mons r Robert Grovenor, ne nul de son nom porter 
le ditz armes devant la darneyr chivache Mons r S r le Roy susdit ne ay 
oie q. ses auncestres ont fait devant. Done a Londres le onzieme jour 
deMarse,l'an du regne le Roy Richard second puis le conquest noevisme." 

The above is inserted in a miscellaneous collection made by the Herald 

In the Scrope cause of arms, trial by battle was, we have seen, 
expressly excluded j but in the cause of Grey de Ruthyn against Hastings, 
the proceedings became even more dramatic, the lie was given by the 
defendant to the plaintiff in open court, and an appeal to the arbitre- 
ment of arms (not however even there allowed it would seem,) made. 
After calling upon Grey to abandon the use of the arms in dispute 5 in 


the event of his refusal, Hastings (following probably a formula of 
words) thus concludes : 

" I require thee, by vertue of thy knighthood, that thou stand by 
thy word in thy proper person, till it be determined by our bodies as 
knighthood will, the which worde thou hast replied by thine owne 
mouth, against the word of answeare given by my mouth and written 
with my hand, and ensealed with my seal in the same court, and that 
thou pursue deligently withouten feintis by thee and thy frendes, that 
the worde be admitted for full proof, the which worde as thy partie 
ben there in substance. Thou lyes falsely lewed knight, and that I am 
ready to prove with my bodye against thy body, and therefore here 
is my glove to wedde, and I aske day and place."* 

If one counsel demurred to another counsel's law, this was said some 
years ago to have been good ground for a duel in Dublin, a mode of pro- 
ceeding not unreasonable if viewed in analogy to the chivalrous practice 
wherever the legal point involved such difficulties in its decision as to 
transcend human abilities or ingenuity to unravel ! ! Then was the 
knot deo vindice nodus, proper to be left to the decision of God, made 
manifest by the result of a duel ! ! ! 

" On the part of Sir Richard Grosvenor (says Ormerod) were examined 
nearly all the knights and gentlemen of Cheshire and Lancashire, with 
several of the Abbots and other clergy, all of whom deposed to the 
usage of the arms by the Grosvenors, and to having seen them painted 
on windows, standards, and monuments in twenty four churches, 
chapels and monasteries in Cheshire ; the family charters and deeds, with 
seals appendant, exhibiting the same bearing, were produced before the 
court, and it was stated on the authority of chronicles and monastic re- 
cords that all the ancestors of Sir Robert had used the same coat from 
time immemorial, and more particularly that it was used by Gilbert le 
Grosvt nor, at the Conquest j by Ranfe le Grosvenor, at the battle of 
Lincoln ; by Robert le Grosvenor, in the crusade under Richard I. ; by 
Robert 1 j Grosvenor, in the Scotch wars under Edward II. ; by another, 
Robert, at Cressy, and in other battles under Edward III., and by the 
claimant, Sir Robert himself as harbinger to Sir Thomas d'Audley, 
lieutenant to the Black Prince, and in Berry Algayne, at the tower of 
Brose, at the siege of Rocksivier, in Poictou, in Guienne, at Viers, in 
Normandy, at the battle of Poictiers, at the battle of Najara in Spain, 
in 1367, and lastly, at the battle of Limoges, in 1370, in the service of 
the Black Prince.'' After this powerful and stringent evidence for the 
defence, the weight of which the Lord High Constable himself acknow- 
ledges in his sentence "de la partie du dit Robert nous avous trouves 
grandes evidences et presumptions semblables en sa defence des dits 
armes,'' Sir Peter Leycester may well have said without incurring any 
suspicion of a local or family prejudice, " both the said partyes proved 
their auncestores had successively borne the same coate of armes from 
the tyme of the Norman Conquest to that present, but Sir Richard 
Scrope overweighing the other with powerful friends, had the coate 
avarded to him. But although the sayd Sir Robert Grosvenor had this 
coat also awarded to him, with the difference of a bordure, yet he 
refused the same and took unto him the coate of azure une garbe d'or ; 

* See a MS. transcript of proceeding in the case of Ruthen against Hastings, Harl. 
MSS., 1178, fol. 36. 


which coate his heyres and successoures have ever since borne to-this 
moment, scorning to beare the other coate with a difference." It will be seen, 
however, that a note which will be subsequently given, as cited by Sir 
Karris Nicholas, from a Harleian MS., affords a somewhat different 
account of the sequel of the proceedings. 

On the side of Scrope were examined parties still more numerous, still 
more illustrious for rank, military fame, and genius, Edmund of Langley, 
Duke of York, John of Gaunt, King of Castile and Leon, both uncles of 
the king, Sir John Holand, afterwards Duke of Exeter, he was brother 
to the king, the Earls of Derby, Arundel, and Northumberland, the Lords 
Poynings, Basset, Clifford, Dacre, Darcy, Grey of Ruthven, and Scales,be- 
sides many abbots, and knights, esquires, and gentlemen, among whom 
stands clearly forth, Harry Percy (Hotspur), whose spur was so soon to be- 
come "cold.'' He had a subsequent connexion with the county of Chester, 
by reason of his appointment of Judge of Chester, in which office, sin- 
gularly enough, he succeeded William le Scrope, Earl of Wiltshire, the 
unfortunate son of the plaintiff, Sir Richard. He was judge "eo modo 
quo Willielmus le Scrop habuit," and he had power to act by deputy.* 
But his father-in-law, Owen Glendower, from his residence on the Welsh 
borders, must have known more of the bearings of Cheshire families, 
and Glendower is one of the Grosvenor witnesses. But let us haste to 
the issue of these accumulated proceedings ; we give it in the words 
of the note cited by the learned author, from a Harleian MS. 

" The Constables Judgment dyd gyve M r Scroope thole Armes, & 
M r Grosvenor a hordre whyte to yt and Grosvenour to paye the costs 
synce he toke daye of excepc'ons agenst the wytnes, but he apealyd to 
the Kinge, & uttrelye refusyd the newe apoyntyd armes and Judgment, 
wherfor the King gave Judgement as followeth 

27 Maij A 13, 1390, A p'mo 
Bonifacij noni pape. 

The K's Judgement geven in the great chambre of P'liament w th in 
his palyce Royall at Westm' present w th ym his uncles the Dukes of 
Gwyen & Glowcestre, the Bishope of London, the Lords John Roos, 
Raufe Nevyll & John Lovell, John Dev'eux Steward of his howsse, his 
Vycechamb'layne Henrye P'cye the sone, Mathewe de Gourney, Hugh 
Zowche, Bryan de Stapleton, Rychard Addreburye & WilPmde Far- 
ringdon Knights & others, that tharmes shuld whollye remayne to 
S r Rychard Scroope & his heyres, & M r Grosvenour to have no p'te 
therof bycawsse he was a stranger vnto the same. 

And for the byll of thexpencs amountynge to iiij c Ixvj 11 xiij 8 iiij d spent 
betwene the 9 th of Octobre A 11 Rich'i ij di , w ch was the daye that the 
seid Roberte had taken excepc'ons agenst the wytnesses untyll the 27 
of Maye A 13 w ch daye the Kinge gave Judgement & by the Comys- 
saryes vid z the Busshoppe of London, the Lord Cobh a m, M r John 
Barnet, & Rychard Rouhale, hyt was ceassyd to L m'kes, but aft re for 
that the seid Roberte wold not appeare but was obstynate hyt was 
agayne ceassyd by the Kinge to v c m'kes, beinge on Munday the fyrst 
day of the P'lyament 3 rd of Octobre A 15 Rich'i ij^, these beinge 
present, the Duke of Gwyen, the Archebusshoppe of Dyvelye, the 
Busshopps of London Chestre & Chychestre, the Erles of Darby 
Rutland M'che Arundell Huntyngton & Northumb'land, the Lords 
Roos Nevyll & Cobh a m & other. 

* See Ormerod's Cheshire, vo\. \. p. 58. 


W h seid Som' of v c m'kes the seyd S r Roberta Grosvenour requestyd 
the seyd S r Rychard Scroope to forgive hym, who agayne answeryd that 
he had so ivell usyd hym & belyed hym in his Awnsweres, that he 
des'vyd no courtesye ; who agayne aunswerd hyt was not his doings 
but his Counsellors to make his mattre seame the bettre, and that 
he knewe he dyd not well nor seyd trewlye therin, wheruppon he agayne 
answeryd that yf he wolde so openlye declare p'fesse & confesse & be 
content hit shuld so be enteryd of recourde, w ch he requestyd the Kinge 
hit myght be, that then he wold forgyve hym, w ch was done accordinglye 
and the Som' forgeven & they made frynds afor the Kinge in the 
P'lyament howsse." 

It needs only to peruse the sentence of the Lord High Constable, 
delivered by the advice of the marshal and the " conseille de chivalrie" 
to be certain that the less powerful and influential of the two parties 
was hardly dealt with. For, although in a cause of arms, each was 
quasi an actor or plaintiff, and therefore the important principle of the 
civil law (adopted from its essential propriety into every modern system 
of jurisprudence), potior est conditio defendentis ; might be considered 
as inapplicable, still no law of justice or principle of reason could pos- 
sibly require that a defendant should, under any circumstances, have 
entailed upon him the necessity of a greater amount of proof than a 
plaintiff, and yet what says the Lord High Constable in his sentence ?* 
" That the said Sir Richard Scrope, Knight, party actor, has fully and 
sufficiently proved his claim, touching the said arms by witnesses, 
chronicles, and other sufficient evidences, and that the said Sir Robert has 
not in any respect disproved the proofs of the said Sir Richard, and there- 
fore he awarded, pronounced, and declared that Scrope should bear the 
entire arms, &c." So that the Cheshire knight was, it seems, not merely 
called upon to prove an uninterrupted use by himself and his ancestors, 
but to prove actually the negative, that no one else had a similar right 
to the same ensigns. Now, that two parties might be allowed the 
same arms where user could be satisfactorily proved by each is evident, 
because Carminow, had, it appears in the course of these very proceed- 
ings been awarded the selfsame use of arms. 

One of the Grosvenor witnesses deposed that, but for the chal- 
lenge made by Scrope of the arms az. a bend or, Sir Robert Gros- 
venor would himself have become the challenger or plaintiff. Had he 
done so, the subsequent sentence might, upon similar reasoning, have 
been retained, changing merely the names of Scrope and Grosvenor, 
where these occurred : for " the testimony of two hundred witnesses the 
evidence of chronicles and charters might be said to have sufficiently 
proved the claim of Grosvenor, and the said Sir Richard had not in any 
respect disproved the proofs of the said Sir Robert. 

The well descended wealthy Cheshire Knight could not stand against 
the prestige, and perhaps political influence of the warrior statesman 
Scrope, a Baron of the Realm who had already proved his own right in a 
previous suit of arms, and had not, according to Walsingham, " his fel- 
low (of his degree) in the whole kingdom for prudence and inte- 
grity.'' It may be said without any injurious conclusion, that Scrope 
had for judges, not merely companions in arms, but personal friends. 
An impartial reader will be inclined to think that the decisions in 

* Vol. i. p. 7. 


the first instance, and on appeal, involved at least a slight to the rising- 
family of Grosvenor, and that as the evidence on both sides tended to show 
a long use of the arms by both families, it would have been a fairer 
and less invidious mode of proceeding to have either given entirely new 
bearings to each claimant, or to have left them each the main features 
of the ancient insignia, obliging both noblemen to assume certain differ- 
ences. When the gay decorations of the gondolas of the Venetian 
Patricians, commencing in a pardonable emulation, had at last led to 
dangerous rivalry and animosity, to feuds on the quays and furious 
contests and brawls upon the canals, the council of ten dealt summarily, 
but, at least, impartially, with the evil. No longer did the lagunes 
reflect the gay colours and floating banners of any of the nobles, but 
assumed an appearance more in harmony with the gloomy grandeur of 
the palaces, and the solemn majesty of the more ancient edifices. 
Dark, unadorned, hearse-like looking boats glided noiselessly upon the 
unruffled surface of the waters, and but for the inherent vivacity and 
merriment of the Venetian people, and the graceful lightness and 
elegance of the subsequent architectural erections of Palladio, the 
brilliancy of its sun, and the clear blue of its heaven, Venice would 
in appearance have anticipated the period when she became in the 
language of modern English poetry, " the city of the dead." The 
ordinance in question forbad any ornaments to be used for gondolas, and 
prescribed for all one uniform colour, which they still preserve to this 
day, "the sober livery of solemn black." 

What better,whatmoreconclusiveevidence of the antiquity of thenobility 
of any family in the British Peerage than that here produced on the part 
of Grosvenor ? Here are upwards of two hundred of respectable witnesses 
to the high pretensions of the family, crying aloud in the middle of the 
14th century, in the presence of peers, spiritual and temporal, of the most 
renowned knights and warriors of Crecy and Poictiers, nay, of very royalty 
itself, " Grosvenor is a name of ancient fame Grosvenor is a scion 
of royal stock its founder, a nephew of Hugh Lupus, first Earl of 
Chester. Grosvenor bore arms az. a bend or from the Conquest.'' 
Grosvenor is our kinsman, ejaculate members of some of the oldest 
houses of Cheshire, the Breretons, the Davenports, the Vernons, the 
Etons, the Leycesters, the Stanleys, and the Daniels, &e. What, though 
some state themselves to be " cosyns del dit Mons. Robert, only, en 
le tierce et quarte degres," the more distant the relationship the more 
remote the common ancestor, the more remote the common ancestor 
the more ancient the family. But the nobility, that is the gentle blood 
of the house of Grosvenor, was not in question at that early period, for 
the proceedings themselves style the defendant "nobilem virum Rober- 
tum Grosvenor militem."* 

No exception was taken to the nobility of the house but only to its right 
to bear the particular arms. But who was that Carminow of Cornwall, 
styled by Sir Harris Nicolas (on what authority we know not as we find it 
not in these depositions) an Esquire? Who was the party calledt " un dez 
Carmynaue de Cornewall," who succeeded in a contest in which Grosve- 
nor failed ? Did he triumphantly vindicate his claim to the arms, by the 

* Vol. i. pp. 15 and 23. 

t See deposition of John Tapcliffe, Esquire, vol. i, p. 2134. 


intrinsic merits of his case or by the intercession of powerful friends or 
the employment of court favor? Of the family, Collins* tells us that 
was considered the most considerable in Cornwall for antiquity and pos- 
sessions. About the time of the proceedings in question, it numbered 
amongst its members at least three knights, Sir Oliver, Sir Thomas, and 
Sir Walter, and amongst its alliances by marriage (unerring sign of ancient 
blood) some of the oldest names in Cornwall. At a subsequent period John 
Carminow of Resprins was more famous for his wealth than any other 
of his name or house, or than any other family in Cornwall. His Christmas 
entertainments are recorded to have been on an extraordinary scale of mu- 
nificent hospitality, the allowance for twelve days being twelve bullocks, 
fifty bushels of wheat, thirty-six sheep, besides hogs, lambs and fowls of all 
sorts. His son, however, squandered away the greater part of his inhe- 
ritance, and the rest passed through coheiresses to the Boscawens, Earls 
of Falmouth. The last heir male of the Carminows died in 1646, but 
several of the most noted county families, the Coles, Courtenays,Prideaux, 
Trevanions and Arundels of Lanherne, denote by their quarterings their 
descent from female heiresses of different branches of that ancient stock. 

" It is a melancholy reflection to look back on so many great families, 
(says Dr. Borlase,and he ranks Carminow amongst them) as have formerly 
adorned the county of Cornwall and are now no more The most 
lasting families have only their seasons, more or less, of a certain con- 
stitutional strength. They have their spring and summershine glares, 
their wane, decline, and death j they flourish and shine perhaps for ages -, 
at last they sicken 5 their light grows pale and at a crisis when the offsets 
are withered and the old stock is blasted, the whole tribe disappears and 
leaves the world as they have done Cornwall. There are limits ordained 
to everything under the sun. Man will not abide in honour. Of all human 
vanities, family pride is one of the weakest. Reader, go thy way : secure 
thy name in the book of life, where the page fades not, nor the title alters, 
nor expires ; leave the rest to Heralds, and the Parish register." 

Who, however, we repeat, was the " one called Carminow of Cornwall," 
mentioned in the depositions of John of Gaunt and John Rither, Esquier, 
as having successfully resisted the exclusive right of the Scropes to the 
arms az. a bend or ? The Christian name is fixed by another witness, a 
relative, Sir Thomas Fychett, who states that " Thomas Carminow of 
Cornwall, who is his relation, had a controversy with the said Sir Richard 
and his lineage, on account of the said arms, in France, before the Earl 
of Northampton, the which Thomas Carminow proved these arms from 
the time of King Arthur, and the said Sir Richard from the time of 
King William the Conqueror j whereupon it was agreed, that as the said 
Thomas Carminow had proved usage before the Conquest, he ought of 
right to bear them : and that the said Sir Richard might also bear 
them, he having proved his right from the time of King William the 

The individual thus selected for attack byScrope must have been one 
of the heads of his family, who then could he be but the Thomas Car- 
minow (mentioned in Lysons' Cornwall), afterwards knighted, who be- 
came Lord Chamberlain to Richard II., and who married Elizabeth, 
daughter of Joan Plantagenet, the fair maid of Kent, and therefore sister 

* Peerage, vol. vii. p. 273. 


of the half blood to the King, and sister of the whole blood to Sir Thomas 
Holland, Duke of Exeter, another of the deponents in this cause ? Ac- 
cording to the Carminow pedigree in Polwhele's Cornwall, the cham- 
berlainship is assigned to an earlier ancestor and an impossible date (1 348.) 
And here again a suspicion suggests itself of a counter court favour in- 
fluencing the decision, arid neutralizing the influence of the Scrope. Be 
this, however, as it may, the Carminows and the Scropes were allowed to 
bear simultaneously the same ensigns.* 

Certainly the absence of colours, or any mark to indicate colour- 
ing, on the sepulchral effigies, would constitute these a very inadequate 
proof of the user of disputed arms ; and accordingly one of the deponents, 
Adam Newson (vol. i. p. 68), stated "that Sir Robert Grovenour sprung 
from the Grovenours of the county of Chester, whose ancestors lie buried 
in the Abbey of Chester, but," he added, " the arms were not pour- 
trayed in colours on their bodies." But still, this was not always so as to 
their monuments, and the objection does not apply to stained windows. 

The arms in question were of great simplicity, and without an effi- 
cient Herald's College : and in a kingdom surrounded by distinct 
enemies (the Scotch, the French, the Welsh), whose knights, until the 
French wars in the reign of Edward III., rarely, it may be supposed, 
served much together, but were divided to encounter their various ene- 
mies, was it extraordinary, that in remote parts of the same kingdom, 
three families had long used, unconsciously it may have been, the same 
arms. The Carminow of Cornwall, which, in the words of one of the 
deponents, " had formerly been a kingdom j" the Scropes of Yorkshire, 
and the Grosvenors of the County Palatine (almost another little king- 
dom) of Chester. 

In our view, it was not until this reign (that of Richard II.), that the 
coincidences of armorial bearings came to be much considered, the 
nature of the right to bear them questioned, or that blazonry became a 
science. It would seem about this time, from the frequency of the 
causes brought before the Court of Chivalry, that the military forces 
that had been assembled from all parts of the kingdom for the French 
wars, had brought together many distinct families with the same cogni- 
zances, which they then only for the tirst time became aware that 
they had borne concurrently. It was worthy of note, in an heraldic 
point of view, that no heralds were called to give evidence upon the 
subject-matter of controversy, from which the conclusion is legitimate, 
that at that period no evidences were preserved by them of right to arms, 
otherwise the omission of the ancestral bearings of a house so ancient, 
so powerful, and so influential, as that of Scrope undoubtedly was, would 
be wholly inexplicable. 

One singular feature in this trial is the strong bias in the minds of the 
sets of witnesses, in behalf of the respective parties by whom they 
were called j an instance of how strong was the fteling,in feudal times, 
to run to clanship and rally around a great name. 

The author appears to have doubted at one time whether the Hugh 

* According to Polwhele the order was somewhat different, " as Scrope was a baron 
of the realm, it was ordered that Carminow should still bear the same coat, but with a 
pile in chief gules for distinction ; on which Carminow took up the Cornish motto. 
*' Calarag Whethlow," " a straw for a talebearer." (Language and Literature of Corn, 



Calverley, who made a deposition in the cause, was the celebrated war- 
rior, Hugh ? But it seems, from the before cited note of the pro- 
ceedings, in the Harleian MS., 1178, p. 191 (b), that Hugh Calverley, 
Knight, acted on one occasion as deputy for the Constable, May 6, 1386. 
Now he could hardly be both judge and witness. 

Thus, reader, have we at length fulfilled our task, and have endea- 
voured, by a comparatively brief narrative, to turn your attention to a 
singular judicial pageant of the fourteenth century, to a spectacle in 
which kings, poets, statesmen, and warriors were actors, England the 
stage, the world of Chivalry the audience, and the subject that charac- 
teristic creation of knightly honour and feudal institutions, "Cotearmure." 
Would we study the genius, the manners of a people, where should we 
better seek them than in these graphic delineations of national wisdom 
or folly, these contemporary records that hold a faithful mirror to the 
age, and fix the reflection for the study, the admiration, or the marvel of 
future generations? A remark, we believe it is, of Mr. Hallam, that the 
character, the individuality of a distinct people, is lost sight of, or vainly 
looked for in the abstract page of general history ; and if we would 
really know what manner of men our ancestors were, what they did, how 
they felt and thought, we must approach them in the chronicles, the 
books of letters, or familiar literature of their day. How, we may con- 
fidently ask, can we better acquaint ourselves with the lives and opinions 
and sentiments of our steel-clad progenitors (coevals of the Black Prince) 
than by a perusal of what they say in the case of Scrope and Grosvenor ? 
Many a patient antiquary has, perhaps, in former times applied himself 
to the labour (to him a labour of love) of decyphering the faded, con- 
tracted text, of perusing the Law Latin and the Norman French, in 
which the testimony of abbots and priors, of nobles and knights, lies 
confounded together in the lengthy parchments of the Scrope and Gros- 
venor roll, and if all difficulties surmounted, he who runs may now 
read, the praise, the honour is due to the untiring exertions of Sir Harris 
Nicolas. His two volumes we have perused with profit and pleasure, 
and shall look forward with interest to the third and concluding volume, 
long ago promised, and too long deferred, in which the author proposes 
to give us a history of the influential house of Grosvenor, and to com- 
plete his biographical notices of thfe remaining witnesses. * 

* Sir Peter Leycester made extracts from an account of the pleadings in the suit, 
and collated them with the originals in the Tower. The extracts exist among the 
Tabley Papers, but the Grosvenor transcript is, we believe, said to be lost. 




MACDUFF. O horror! horror ! horror! Tongue nor heart cannot conceive, 

nor name thee ! 

MACBETH, LENNOX. What's the matter ? 
MACDUFF. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece ! 

Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 

The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence 

The life o' the building. 

MACBETH. What is't you say ? the life ? 

LENNOX. Mean you his maj esty ? 


JAMES I., the British Solomon, whom the Duke of Sulley termed the 
wisest fool in Europe, ended his life and reign of questionable repute 
peaceably enough. His death happened the 27th March, 1625, in the 
fifty-ninth year of his age, and the twenty-third of his sovereignty. 
His indisposition was at first considered a tertian ague, afterwards the 
gout in the stomach; but, whatever was its real nature, under his 
obstinacy in refusing medicine, and the hesitation or ignorance of his 
physicians, it proved fatal. On the eleventh day he received the sacra- 
ment in the presence of his son, his favourite, and his attendants, with a 
serenity of mind and fervour of devotion which drew tears from the 
eyes of the beholders. " Being told that men in holy orders in the church 
of England doe challange a power as inhaerent in their function and not 
in their person, to pronounce and declare remission of sins to such as 
being penitent doe call for the same ; he answered suddenly, I have ever 
beleeved there was the power in you that be in the orders in the church 
of England, and therefore I, a miserable sinner, doe humbly desire 
Almighty God to absolve me of my sinnes, and you, that are his servant 
in that high place, to affoord me this heavenly comfort. And after the 
absolution read and pronounced, hee received the sacrament with the 
zeale and devotion, as if he had not been a fraile man, but a cherubin 
cloathed with flesh and blood." Early on the fourteenth he sent for 
Charles : but before the prince could reach the chamber, the king had 
lost the faculty of speech, and in the course of a few hours expired, in 
the fifty-ninth year of his age, and the twenty-third of his reign. Of 
his seven children, three sons and four daughters, two only survived 
him ; Charles, his successor on the throne, and Elizabeth, the titular 
queen of Bohemia. 

We now come to that regal death, which, on the part of him who endured 
it was the most glorious in the annals of English history. Let his errors 
have been what they may, one cannot recur to that terrible termination 
of the life of Charles I., without feelings of deep reverence, awe, and 
admiration. Charles, with his cavaliers about him, supported the prin- 
ciple of monarchy against rebellion in arms. Again, when defenceless 
and alone, in the power of his ruthless enemies, he maintained unflinch- 

R 2 


ingly the same principle against rebellion triumphant. He sanctified 
that principle in his blood, and by doing so, saved the constitution. 
During the long period of republicanism, and then anarchy which 
ensued, the sight of a king dying on the scaffold for his cause passed 
not from the recollection of his people. The fact was there, impressed 
upon and irremoveable from the minds of men, that the commonwealth 
party, to obtain dominion, had been forced to cut the king's head off 
with the crown upon it. He had yielded nothing forfeited nothing. 
The principle of monarchy remained obscured indeed, but sparkling 
ever and anon, and ready at any moment to burst forth into permanent 
brilliancy again. It was, to use the words of the poet, a 

Glimpse of glory ne'er forgot 

Which told like the gleam on a sunset sea 

What once had been, what then was not, 
But oh ! what again would brightly be. 

And yet, with all his spirit and determination, how like a Christian 
Charles met the approach of his fearful death. There was not one par- 
ticle of ostentation in his courage, or his piety. He evinced the meek- 
ness and resolution of a martyr. His very conduct on the scaffold 
awoke the crowd around him to the deep damnation of his taking off. 
His death was indeed the triumph of his cause. 

The details of the martyrdom of King Charles are so familiar, that 
it would seem almost unnecessary to insert them here, yet the omission 
would go to exclude the most important portion of this regal necrology : 
moreover, the narrative cannot be read too often, for, it is right that, at 
every opportunity, we should 

question this most bloody piece of work 

And know it farther. 

Charles as is well known, underwent a mock trial before the sham 
High Court of Justice. He denied and rejected its authority, jurisdic- 
tion or legality, and he was sentenced by it to be beheaded. This doom 
was pronounced on Saturday, the 27th January, 1649. The court, after 
judgment given, went into the Painted- Chamber, and appointed Sir 
Hardress Waller, Ireton, Harrison, Dean and Okey, to consider of the 
time and place for the execution. 

The king was taken by the guards to Sir Robert Cotton's house, and 
as he passed down stairs, the rude soldiers scoffed at him, blew the smoke 
of their tobacco in his face (a thing always very offensive to him) 
strewed pieces of pipes in his way, and one, more insolent than the rest, 
spit in his face, which his majesty patiently wiped off, taking no further 
notice of it : and as he passed farther, hearing some of them cry out, 
Justice, justice, and execution, he said, " Alas ! poor souls, for a piece of 
money, they would do as much for their commanders." Afterwards the 
king hearing that his execution was determined to be the next day, 
before his palace at Whitehall, he sent an officer in the army to desire 
that he might see his children before his death, and that Dr. Juxon, 
Bishop of London, might be permitted to assist him in his private 
devotions, and receiving the sacrament, both which were granted to him 
upon a motion to the parliament. 

Next day being Sunday, he was attended by a guard to St. James's, 
where the bishop preached before him upon these words : " In the day 


when God shall judge the secrets of all men by Jesus Christ, according 
to my gospel.'' 

The same day that the warrant was signed for his execution, the 
Duke of Gloucester, and the Lady Elizabeth, were brought to him, 
whom he received with great joy and satisfaction, and giving his 
blessing to the princess, he bade her remember to tell her brother 
James, that he should no more look upon Charles as his elder brother 
only, but as his sovereign, and forgive their father's enemies. Then 
taking the Duke of Gloucester upon his knee, said, Sweet heart, now 
they will cut off thy father's head, (at which words the child looked 
very wishfully upon him). Mark, child, what I say $ they will cut off my 
head, and, perhaps, make thee a king: but mark what I say, you must 
not be a king so long as your brothers Charles and James are alive j for 
they will cut off your brothers' heads, as soon as they can catch them, 
and cut thy head off too at last, and therefore I charge you, do not be 
made a king by them. At which the child sighing, said, " I will be 
torn in pieces first." 

The warrant for his Majesty's execution was signed on the 2Qth, and 
ran thus : 

"Whereas Charles Stewart, king of England, is, and standeth convicted* 
attainted and condemned of high-treason, and other high crimes, and sentence* 
upon Saturday last, was pronounced against him by this court, to be put to 
death, by the severing of his head from his body ; of which sentence execution 
yet remaineth to be done : These are therefore to will and require you to see 
the said sentence executed in the open street, before Whitehall, upon the 
morrow, being the 30th day of January, between the hours of ten in the 
morning and five in the afternoon of the same day, with full effect, and for 
so doing, this shall be your sufficient warrant, and these are to require all officers, 
soldiers, and others the good people of this nation of England, to be assisting 
unto you in this service. 

To Colonel Francis -Hacker, Colonel Huncks and 

Lieutenant-Colonel Phory, and to every of them. 

Given under our hands and seals, sealed and subscribed by 

John Bradshaw, Thomas Horton, Henry Martin, 

Thomas Grey, John Jones, Vincent Potter, 

Oliver Cromwell, John More, William Constable, 

Edward Whaley, Hardress Waller, Richard Ingoldsby, 

Michael Livesay, Gilbert Millington, William Cawley, 

John Okey, John Alured, John Barkstead, 

John Peters, Robert Lilburn, Isaac Ewers, 

John Bouchier, William Say, John Dixwell, 

Henry Ireton, Anthony Stapeley, Valentine Walton, 

Thos. Mauleverer, Richard Dean, Gregory Norton, 

John Blackiston, Robert Titchburn, Thomas Challoner, 

John Hutchinson, Humphrey Edwards, Thomas Wogan, 

William Goffe, Daniel Blagrave, JohnVen, M 

Thomas Pride, Owen Roe, Gregory Clement, 

Peter Temple, William Purefoy, John Downs, 

Thomas Harrison, Adrian Scrope,j Thomas Temple, 

John Huson, James Temple. Thomas Scot, 

Henry Smith, Augustine Garland, John Carew, 

Peregrine Pelham, Edmond Ludlow, Miles Corbet. 
Simon Meyne, 

On the next day, being the 30th January, the Bishop of London read 
divine service in his presence, and the 2rth of St. Matthew, the history 


of our Saviour's passion, being appointed by the church for that day, he 
gave the bishop thanks for his seasonable choice of the lesson ; but the 
bishop acquainting him that it was the service of the day, it comforted 
him exceedingly, and then he proceeded to receive the holy sacrament. 
His devotions being ended, he was brought from St. James's to White- 
hall, by a regiment of foot, part before, and part behind, with a private 
guard of partisans about him, the Bishop of London on the one hand, 
and Colonel Tomlinson, who had the charge of him, on the other, 
bareheaded. The guards marched at a slow pace, the king bade them 
go faster, saying, that he now went before them to strive for a heavenly 
crown, with less solicitude than he had often encouraged his soldiers 
to fight for an earthly diadem. Being come to the end of the park, he 
went up the stairs leading to the long gallery in Whitehall, where 
formerly he used to lodge, and there finding an unexpected delay, the 
scaffold being not ready, he past most of the time in prayer. About 
twelve o'clock (his Majesty refusing to dine, only ate a bit of bread and 
drank a glass of claret) Colonel Hacker, with other officers and soldiers, 
brought the king, with the bishop, and Colonel Tomlinson, through the 
banqueting-house, to the scaffold, a passage being made through a 
window. There might have been nothing mysterious in the delay : if 
there was, it may perhaps be explained from the following circumstance. 

Four days had now elapsed since the arrival of ambassadors from the 
Hague to intercede in his favour. It was only on the preceding evening 
that they had obtained audiences of the two houses, and hitherto no 
answer had been returned. In their company came Seymour, the bearer 
of two letters from the prince of Wales, one addressed to the king, the 
other to Lord Fairfax. He had already delivered the letter, and with it a 
sheet of blank paper subscribed with the name and sealed with the 
arms of the prince. It was the price which he offered to the grandees 
of the army for the life of his father. Let them fill it up with the con. 
ditions : whatever they might be, they were already granted : his seal 
and signature were affixed. It is not improbable that this offer may 
have induced the leaders to pause. That Fairfax laboured to postpone 
the execution, was always asserted by his friends; and we have evidence 
to prove that, though he was at Whitehall, he knew not, or at least 
pretended not to know, what was passing. 

In the mean while Charles enjoyed the consolation of learning that 
his son had not forgotten him in his distress. By the indulgence of 
Colonel Tomlinson, Seymour was admitted, delivered the letter, and 
received the royal instructions for the prince. He was hardly gone, 
when Hacker arrived with the fatal summons. About two o'clock 
the king proceeded through the long gallery, lined on each side with 
soldiers, who, far from insulting the fallen monarch, appeared by their 
sorrowful looks to sympathise with his fate. At the end an aperture had 
been made in the wall, through which he stepped at once upon the 
scaffold. It was hung with black : at the further end were seen the two 
executioners, the block, and the axe j below appeared in arms several 
regiments of horse and foot ; and beyond, as far as the eye was per- 
mitted to reach, waved a dense and countless crowd of spectators. The 
king stood collected and undismayed amidst the apparatus of death. 
There was in his countenance that cheerful intrepidity, in his demeanour 
that dignified calmness, uhich had characterised, in the hall of Forther- 
ingay, his royal grandmother, Mary Stuart. A strong guard of several 


regiments of horse and foot, were planted on all sides, which hindered the 
near approach of the people, and the king being upon the scaffold, 
chiefly directed his speech to the bishop and Colonel Tomlinson, to this 
purpose : 

I shall be very little heard of any body else ; I shall therefore speak 
a word to you here : Indeed, I could have held my peace well, if I did 
not think that holding my peace would make some men think that 
I did submit to the guilt, as well as the punishment ; but I think it is 
my duty to God first, and then to my country, to clear myself, both as 
an honest man, a good king, and a good Christian. I shall begin first 
with my innocency, and, in troth, I think it not very needful to insist 
long upon this; for all the world knows, that 1 did never begin a war 
with the two houses of parliament, and I call God to witness, unto 
whom I must shortly make an account, that I did never intend to 
encroach upon their privileges ; they began upon me. It is the militia 
they began upon; they confessed the militia was mine, but they thought 
tit to have it from me : And, to be short, if any body will look to the 
dates of commission, of their commissions and mine, and likewise to 
the declaration, he will see clearly, that they began these troubles, and 
not I. So as for the guilt of these enormous crimes that are laid against 
me, I hope that God will clear me. I will not, for I am in charity, and 
God forbid I should lay it upon the two houses of parliament, there is 
no necessity for either: I hope they are free of this guilt j but 
I believe, that ill instruments between them and me, have been the cause 
of all this bloodshed ; so that as I find myself clear of this, I hope, and 
pray God, that they may too : Yet, for all this, God forbid I should be 
so ill a Christian, as not to say God's judgments are just upon me. 
Many times he doth pay justice by an unjust sentence that is ordinary, 
I will say this, that an unjust sentence that I suffered to take effect, is 
punished by an unjust sentence upon me: So far I have said, to shew 
you, that I am an innocent man. 

Now, to show that I am a good Christian, I hope there is a good 
man [pointing to the bishop] that will bear me witness, that I have for- 
given all the world, and even those in particular that have been the cause 
of my death ; who they are, God knows ; I do not desire to know : I 
pray God forgive them. But this is not all, my charity must go farther ; 
I wish that they may repent. Indeed, they have committed a great sin 
in that particular. 1 pray God, with St. Stephen, that it be not laid 
to their charge ; and withal, that they may take the way to the peace of 
the kingdom ; for my charity commands me not only to forgive particular 
men, but endeavour to the last gasp, the peace of the kingdom. So, 
Sirs, I do wish with all my soul (I see there are some here that will 
carry it farther) the peace of the kingdom. Sirs, I must show you how 
you are out of the way, and put you in the way. First, You are out of 
the way ; for certainly all the ways you ever had yet, as far as ever I 
could find by any thing, are wrong. If in the way of conquest, certainly 
this is an ill way ; for conquest, in my opinion, is never just, except 
there be a good and just cause, either tor matter or wrong, or a just 
title ; and then if you go beyond the first quarrel, that makes that 
unjust at the end that was just at first; for if there be only matter of 
conquest, then it is a robbery, as a pirate said to Alexander, that he was 
a great robber, himself was bat a petty robber. And so, Sirs, 1 think 
for the way that you are in, you are much out of the way. Now, Sirs, 


to put you in the way, believe it, you shall never go right, nor God will 
never prosper you, until you give God his due, the king his due (that 
is my successor) and the people their due : I am as much for them as 
any of you. You must give God his due, by regulating the church 
(according to the Scripture) which is now out of order j and to set you 
in a way particularly now, I cannot; but only this, a national synod 
freely called, freely debating among themselves, must settle this, when 
every opinion is freely heard. For the king (then turning to a gentle- 
man that touched the axe, he said, hurt not the axe that may hurt me). 
Indeed, I will not the laws of the land will clearly instruct you for that j 
therefore, because it concerns my own particular, I give you a touch 
of it. For the people, truly I desire their liberty and freedom as 
much as any body whosoever j hut I must tell you, that their liberty 
and freedom consists in having government under those laws, by which 
their lives and their goods may be most their own. It is not in having 
a share in the government, that is nothing appertaining to them : A 
subject and a sovereign are clear differing things, and therefore, until 
you do that, I mean, that you put the people into that liberty, as I say, 
they will never enjoy themselves. 

Sirs, it was for this that now I am come hither, for if I would have 
given way to an arbitrary course, to have all laws changed, according to 
the power of the sword, I need not to have come here; and therefore I 
tell you, (and I pray God it be not laid to your charge) that I am the 
martyr of the people. In troth, Sirs, I shall not hold you any longer : 
I will only say this to you, that I could have desired a little time longer, 
because I would have a little better digested this I have said, and there- 
fore I hope you will excuse me; I have delivered my conscience, I pray 
God you take those courses that are the best for the good of the 
kingdom and your own salvation. 

Bishop. Though your Majesty's affections may be very well known 
as to religion ; yet it may be expected that you should say something 
thereof for the world's satisfaction. 

King. I thank you heartily, my Lord, for I had almost forgotten it. 
In troth, Sirs, my conscience in religion, I think, is very well known to 
all the world, and therefore I declare before you all, that I die a Christian, 
according to the profession of the Church of England, as I found it left 
me by my father ; and this honest man, I think, will witness it. 

Then turning to the officers, he said, Sirs, excuse me for this same : 
I have a good cause, and I have a gracious God, I. will say no more. 

Then to Colonel Hacker, he said, take care that they do not put me 
to pain. 

A gentleman coming near the axe, the king said, take heed of the 
axe, pray take heed of the axe. 

Then speaking to the executioner, he said, I shall say but very 
short prayers, and when I thrust out my hands, let that be your sign. 

He then called to the bishop for his night-cap, and having put it on, he 
said to the executioner, does my hair trouble you 1 who desired him to 
put it all under his cap, which the king did accordingly, with the help of 
the executioner, and the bishop. Then turning to the executioner, 
he said, I have a good cause and a righteous God on my side. 

Bishop. There is but one stage more, this stage is turbulent and full 
of trouble - f it is a short one ; but you may consider, it will soon carry 


you from earth to heaven ; and there you will find a great deal of 
cordial joy and happiness. 

King. I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no 
disturbance can be, no disturbance in the world. 

Bishop. You are exchanged from a temporary to an eternal crown 
a good exchange. 

Then the king said, is my hair well ? and took off his cloak and his 
George, giving his George to the bishop, saying, "remember." Then 
he put off his doublet, and being in his waistcoat, he put on his cloak 
again ; then looked upon the block, he said to the executioner, you 
must set it^fast. 

Executioner. ft is fast, Sir. 

King. When I put out my hands this way (stretching them out) 
then do you work. After that, having said two or three words to him- 
self, as he stood with hands lift up to heaven, immediately stooping 
down, he laid his neck upon the block ; and then the executioner again 
putting his hair under his cap, the king, thinking he had been going to. 
strike, said, stay for the sign. 

Executioner. Yes, I will, an't please your majesty. 

Then, after a little pause, the king stretching forth his hands, the 
executioner, at one blow, severed his head from his body. 

After the stroke Was given, the body was presently coffined, and 
covered with a velvet pall, immediately upon which, the bishop, and 
Mr. Herbert, went with it to the back stairs to have it embalmed. 
After embalming, his head was sewed on by two surgeons. This done, 
the royal corpse was wrapt up in lead, covered with a velvet pall, and 
then was removed to St. James's. The girdle, or circumscription of capital 
letters, of lead, put about the king's coffin, had only these words, KING 
CHARLES, 1648. 

An extraordinary circumstance attended the deathbed of CHARLES II. ; 
the king, who, at least to all outward appearance had previously been'a Pro- 
testant, declared, when conscious of approaching dissolution, his adhesion 
to the Church of Rome, and confessed to and received the sacrament from 
a catholic priest. Most historians agree in this being the fact, but as 
the catholic writers are of course more inclined to give the matter at 
length, we borrow the following full details from one of them : 

On the 2nd of February, 1684, the King was seized with a violent 
fit of apoplexy, just as he came out of his closet, where he had been 
for some time before he was dressed. The Duke of York was immedi- 
ately advertised of it; but before he could get to his majesty's bed- 
chamber, one Dr. King, being in the withdrawing-room, was called in, 
and had let him blood ; and then, by application and remedies usual on 
such occasions, (which was done by his own physicians,) he came per- 
fectly again to his senses, so that next morning there were great hopes 
of his recovery ; but on the fourth day, he grew so much worse that all 
these hopes vanished, and the doctors declared they absolutely despaired 
of his life, which made it high time to think of preparing for the other 
world. Accordingly two bishops came to do their function ; who, 
reading the prayers appointed in the Common Prayer Book, on that 
occasion, when they came to the place where usually they exhort the 
sick person to make a confession of his sins, the Bishop of Bath and 
Wells, who was one of them, advertized him it was not of obligation ; 
so, after a short exhortation, asked him if he were sorry for his sins ? 


which the king saying be was, the bishop pronounced absolution j and 
then asked him if he pleased to receive the sacrament? to which he 
added no reply j and being pressed by the bishop several times, gave no 
other answers, but that it was time enough, or that he would think of it. 

The duke, who stood all this time by his Majesty's bed-side, and seeing 
that notwithstanding the bishop's solicitation, he would not receive the 
communion from them, and knowing the king's sentiments in the mat- 
ters of religion, concerning which he had lately had frequent conferences 
with him, thought it a fit opportunity to remind him of it ; and therefore, 
desiring the company to stand a little from the bed, said, he was over- 
joyed to find his Majesty in the same mind he was when he spoke lately 
to him in his closet about religion, at which time he pleased to show 
him a paper he had writ himself of controversy, and therefore asked him 
if he desired he should send for a priest to him? to which the King im- 
mediately replied, " For God's sake, brother, do ; and please to lose no 
time." But then reflecting on the consequence, added, "but will you 
not expose yourself too much by doing it ?'' 

The duke, who never thought of danger when the king's service 
called, though but in a temporal concern, much less in an eternal one, 
answered, " Sir, though it cost me my life, I will bring one to you ;" and 
immediately going into the next room, and seeing never a Catholic he 
could send but the Count de Castel Machlor, he dispatched him on that 
errand ; and though other priests were sent for, yet it fortuned none 
could be got but Father Huddlestone, Benedictine monk, who had been 
so assistant to his Majesty in making his escape after the battle of Wor- 
cester ; who, being brought up a pair of back stairs into a private closet, 
the duke advertised the king where he was, who thereupon ordered all 
the people to withdraw except the Duke j but his Royal Highness 
thought fit that my Lord of Bath, who was lord of the bed-chamber then 
in waiting, and my Lord Feversham, the captain of his guards, should re- 
main in the room, telling the king it was not fit he should be quite 
alone with his Majesty, considering the weak condition he was then in ; 
and, as soon as the room was cleared, accordingly called Mr. Huddleston 
in, whom his majesty received with great joy and satisfaction, telling him 
he desired to die in the faith and communion of the Catholic church ; 
that he was most heartily sorry for the sins of his past life, and particu- 
larly for having deferred his conversion so long ; that he hoped, never- 
theless, in the merits of Christ, that he was in charity with all the world, 
pardoned his enemies, and begged pardon of those he had any ways 
offended ; and that if it pleased God he recovered, was resolved, by his 
assistance, to amend his life. Then he proceeded to make a confession of 
his whole life, with exceeding tenderness of heart, and pronounced an 
act of contrition with great piety and compunction. In this he spent 
about an hour j and, having desired to receive all the succours fit for a 
dying man, he continued making pious ejaculations, and, frequently 
lifting his hands, cried, "Mercy, sweet Jesus, mercy!" 'till the priest 
was ready to give him Extreme Unction ; and the sacrament being come 
by the time this was ended, he asked his majesty if he desired to receive 
it ? who answered, he did most earnestly, if he thought him worthy of 
it. Accordingly the priest, after some further preparations, going about 
to give it him, he raised himself up. and said, " let me meet my heavenly 
Lord in a better posture than lying on my bed;" but being desired not 
to discompose himself, he repeated the act of contrition, and then re- 


ceived it with great piety and devotion , after which Father Huddleston, 
making him a short exhortation, left him in so much peace of mind that 
he looked approaching death in the face with all imaginable tranquillity 
and Christian resolution. 

The company being then called in again, his majesty expressed the 
greatest kindness and tenderness for the duke that could possibly be 
conceived: he owned in the most public manner, the sense he had of 
his brotherly affection, during the whole course of his life, and particu- 
larly in this last action j he commended his great submission and con- 
stant obedience to all his commands ; and asked him pardon aloud for 
the rigorous treatment he had so long exercised his patience with : all 
which he said in so affectionate a manner, as drew floods of tears from 
all that were present. He spoke most tenderly to the queen too ; and, 
in fine, left nothing unsaid, or undone that so small a time would allow 
of, either to reconcile himself to God, or to make satisfaction to those 
he had injured upon earth, disposing himself to die with the piety and 
unconcernedness becoming a Christian, and resolution becoming a king, 
and then his senses beginning to fail him, (which had continued perfect 
till about an hour before his death,) he expired betwixt eleven and twelve 
o'clock, on Friday morning, being the 6th of February, 1684. 

One direction Charles gave to his brother while dying, was characte- 
ristic of his natural gallantry and good-nature. "The rest," said he, 
" will no doubt take care of themselves, but oh ! do not let poor Nelly 
be forgotten j she must not be left to starve." The allusion was of 
course to Nell Gwyn, the most amiable, and certainly the least blame- 
able of the frail company that formed his court. 

James II. the most wrong-headed, and yet the most honestly inten- 
tioried of the princes of the unfortunate Stuart dynasty, died the victim 
of his own obstinacy, an exile at the Chateau of St, Germains, near Paris. 
We have extant a detailed account of his death, which runs thus : 
* On the 4th of March, 1701, the king, while in the chapel of the castle, 
fainted away, but after some little time, coming to himself, seemed perfectly 
well again in a few hours; but that day se'nnight being seized again with a 
paralytic, fit in the morning, as he was dressing, it so affected one side, that 
he had dimculty'to walk, and lost the use of his right hand for some time, 
but after blistering, emetics, &c. he began to recover the use of it again ; 
he walked pretty well ; but on Friday, the 2nd of September, he was 
seized again with a fainting in the chapel, just as he had been at first, 
which returning upon him after he was carried to his chamber, was 
most afflicting to the disconsolate queen, in whose arms he fell the 
second time; however, he was pretty well next day, but on Sunday 
falling into another fit, was for some time without life or motion, 'till 
his mouth being forced open, he vomited a great quantity of blood. 
This put the queen, and all the people except himself, into the last 
degree of trouble and apprehension. In the meantime he sent for the 
prince, his son, who at his first entrance, seeing the king with a pale and 
dying countenance, the bed covered with blood, burst out, as well as all 
about him, into the most violent expression of grief. 

As soon as the sacrament arrived, he cried out, " the happy day is 
come at last;" and, then recollecting himself, to receive the viaticum, 
the curate came to his bed-side and (as customary on those occasions,) 
asked him if he believed the real and substantial presence of our Savi- 
our's body in the sacrament ? to which he answered, " yes, I believe it, 


I believe it with my whole heart j" after which having spent some time 
in recollection, he desired to receive the sacrament of Extreme 
Unction accompanying those ceremonies with exemplary piety and a 
singular presence of mind. 

There could not be a better time than this for making a public decla- 
ration of his being in perfect charity with all the world, and that he 
pardoned his enemies from the bottom of his heart j and, lest his sin- 
cerity might be doubted in reference to those who had been so in a 
particular manner, he named the Prince of Orange, the Princess Ann, of 
Denmark, his daughter; and calling his confessor to take particular 
notice, " I forgive with all my heart the Emperor too." But in reality 
he had not waited to that moment to perform that Christian duty of for- 
giveness of injuries ; his heart had been so far from any resentment on 
their account, that he reckoned them his best benefactors, and often de- 
clared he was more beholden to the Prince of Orange than to all the 
world besides. 

The next day his most Christian Majesty, Louis XIV. came to see 
him, and alighted at the castle gate, as others did to prevent the noise 
of coaches coming in the court ; the king received him with the same 
easiness and affability as usual, and indeed was better that night ; and, 
though the night following he had an ill fit, yet on Wednesday he voided 
no more blood^ and, his fever abating gave great hopes of amendment : 
on Sunday his most Christian Majesty made him a second visit, whom, 
as wjll as all the other princes and people of distinction (who were per- 
petually coming) he received with as much presence of mind and civility 
as if he had ailed nothing ; but on Monday, he falling into a drowsiness, 
and his fever increasing, all those hopes of recovery vanished, and the 
queen was by his bedside when that happened, which put her into a sort 
of agony too ; this the king perceiving was concerned for, and notwith- 
standing his weak condition, said " Madam, do not afflict yourself, I am 
going, I hope, to be happy." 

The next day he continued in the same lethargic way, and seemed to 
take little notice of any thing except when prayers were read, which he 
was always attentive to, and, by the motion of lips, seemed to pray 
continually himself. On Tuesday the 13th, about three o'clock, his 
most Christian Majesty came a third time, to declare his resolution in 
reference to the prince, which in his former visits he had said nothing 
of, nor indeed had he determined that matter before. Upon which 
Louis went into the king, and coming to the bed-side, said, " Sir, I am 
come to see how your Majesty finds yourself to-day ;" but the king, 
not hearing, made no reply ; upon which one of his servants telling 
him that the King of France was there, he roused himself up, and said, 
" Where is he ?" Upon which the King of France said, " Sir I am here, 
and come to see how you do j" so then the king began to thank him for 
all his favours, and particularly for the care and kindness he had shewn 
during his sickness. To which his most Christian Majesty replied, " Sir 
that is but a small matter, I have something to acquaint you with, of 
greater consequence." Upon which the king's servants, imagining he 
would be private, (the room being full of people) began to retire, which 
his most Christian Majesty perceiving, said out aloud, " Let nobody 
withdraw," and then went on ^ "I am come, Sir, to acquaint you, that 
whenever it shall please God to call your Majesty out of this world, I 
will take your family into my protection, and will treat your son, the 


Prince of Wales, in the same manner I have treated you, and acknowledge 
him, as he then will be, King of England j" upon which all that were 
present, as well French as English, burst forth into tears, not being able 
any other way to express that mixture of joy and grief with which they 
were so surprisingly seized ; some, indeed threw themselves at his most 
Christian Majesty's feet: others, by their gestures and countenances, 
(much more expressive on such occasions than words and speeches,) 
declared their gratitude for so generous an action ; with which his most 
Christian Majesty was so much moved, that he could not refrain weeping 

The next day the king found himself better, so the prince was permitted 
to come to him, which he was not often suffered to do, it being observed, 
that when he saw him, it raised such a commotion in him, as was thought 
to do him harm ; as soon therefore, as he came into the room, the king, 
stretching forth his arms to embrace him, said, "I have not seen you 
since his most Christian Majesty was here, and promised to own you 
when I was dead. I have sent my Lord Middleton to Marly, to thank 
him for it." Thus did this king talk of his approaching death, not only 
with indifference, but satisfaction, when he found his son and family 
would not be sufferers by it j and so composed himself to receive it with 
greater cheerfulness, if possible, than before ; nor was that happy hour 
far from him now, for the next day he grew much weaker, was taken 
with continual convulsions, or shaking in the hands, and the day follow- 
ing, being Friday the 16th of September, about three in the afternoon, 
rendered his soul into the hands of his Redeemer, the day of the week 
and hour, wherein our Saviour died, and on which he always practised a 
particular devotion to obtain a happy death. 


LANE, or DE LA LONE. From this 
Norman, the Lanes of Staffordshire 
claim descent, a family illustrious in his- 
tory for the part they took in the pre 
servation of King Charles II. After the 
battle of Worcester, Col. John Lane, 
the head of the House, received the 
fugitive Prince at his mansion of Bentley, 
whence his Majesty was conveyed in dis- 
guise by the Colonel's eldest sister, Jane 
Lane to her cousin Mrs. Norton's resi- 
dence near Bristol. This loyal lady 
married in the sequel Sir Clement Fisher 
of Packington, in Warwickshire, and re- 
ceived, after the Restoration, an annual 
pension of J?1000 for life. From her 
brother, the cavalier Colonel Lane, (to 
whom was granted, in augmentation of 
bis paternal coats, an especial badge of 
honour, viz. the arms of England in a 
canton, with, for crest, a strawberry roan 
horse, bearing between his fore legs, the 
Royal Crown,) lineally descends the pre- 
sent JOHN NEWTON LANE, Esq. of 
King's Bromley Manor, co. Stafford. 

LOVETOT. Not long after the Con- 
quest, we find William de Lovetot pos- 
sessed of Hallam, Attercliffe, Sheffield, 
and other places in Yorkshire, and we 
subsequently trace his family, for three 
generations, as feudal Lords of Hallam - 
shire. Little attention has been paid by 
our genealogists to the origin of this 
potent house, but certain it is that its 
benign influence laid the foundation of 
the prosperity which that district oi 
Yorkshire enjoys to this day. The feudal 
chieftain of the time of our early Nor- 
man Kings in his baronial hall, presents 
not at all times an object which can be 
contemplated with satisfaction by those 
who regard power but as a trust, to be 
administered for the general good. With 
authority little restricted by law or 
usage, he had the power of oppressing as 
well as benefitting the population by 
which he was surrounded, and many 
doubtless were the hearts which power 
so excessive seduced. It is gratifying 

when we find those who could overcome 
its seductive influence. And such seem 
to have been the family of De Lovetot. 
But few of their transactions have come 
down to us, but none which leave a blot 
upon their memory, and some which 
show that they had a great and humane 
regard for the welfare of those whom 
the arrangements of Providence had 
made more immediately dependent on 
them. One of their first cares was to 
plant churches on their domains, and 
their religious zeal is still further dis- 
played by the foundation and endow- 
ment of the splendid monastery of 
Worksop. The last of the male line of 
the Lovetots, William, Lord of Hallam- 
shire, died between the 22nd and 27th 
years of the reign of Henry II., leaving 
an only daughter, Matilda or Maud, then 
of very tender age. This lady was heir to 
her father's large possessions,and,through 
her mother, was nearly allied to the great 
house of Clare. Her wardship fell to 
the king, but Henry seems to have left 
it to his son and successor, Richard 
Cceur de Lion, to select the person to 
whom her hand should be given, and 
therefore to appoint to what new family 
the fair lordship of Sheffield should de- 
volve. As might be expected, Richard 
chose the son of one of his companions 
in arms ; and Maud de Lovetot was be- 
stowed on Gerard de Furnival, a young 
Norman knight, son of another Gerard 
de Furnival, distinguished at the siege 
of Acre. Thus the Furnivals became 
possessed of the Lordship of Hallam- 
shire which eventually passed through 
the marriage of their heiress to the Tal- 
bots, Earls of Shrewsbury, and from 
them to the Howards, Dukes of Norfolk. 
MA LET. William, Lord Malet de 
Greville was one of the great barons 
who accompanied the Conqueror, and 
had, in charge, to protect the remains of 
the fallen monarch, Harold, and to see 
them decently interred after the Battle. 
His son, Robert, Lord Malet, possessed 



at the general survey, thirty-two Lord- 
ships in Yorkshire, three in Essex, one 
in Hampshire, two in Notts, eight in Lin- 
colnshire, and two hundred and twenty- 
one in Suffolk. The near kinsman of this 
Robert, William Malet, Lord of the 
Honour of Eye in Suffolk, was one of 
the subscribing witnesses to Magna 
Charta; and from him lineally derives 
Bart, of Wilbury House, Wilts. 

MALEHERBE. The descendants of 
this knight were seated at Fenyton in 
the county of Devon, as early as the 
reign of Henry II., and continued there 
for thirteen generations, when the 
heiress married Ferrers, and afterwards 
Kirkham. The arms of the Malherbes 
were, or a chev. gu. between three nettle 
leaves erect ppr. referential to the family 

MAUNDEVILK. Upon the first arri- 
val in England of the Conqueror, there 
was amongst his companions a famous 
soldier, called Geffray de Magnavil, so 
designated from the town of Magnavil 
in the Duchy of Normandy, who obtained 
as his share in the spoil of Conquest, 
divers fair and wide spreading domains 
in the counties of Berks, Suffolk, Mid- 
dlesex, Surrey, Oxford, Cambridge, 
Herts, Northampton, Warwick and 
Essex. The grandson of this richly 
gifted noble, another GEOFFREY DE 
MANDEVILLE, was advanced by King 
Stephen to the Earldom of Essex, but 
nevertheless, when the Empress Maud 
raised her standard, he deserted his 
Royal benefactor, and arrayed himself 
under the hostile banner. In requital, 
the Empress confirmed to him the 
custody of the Tower of London, granted 
the hereditary Sheriffalty of London, 
Middlesex and Herts, and bestowed 
upon him all the lands of Eudo Dapifer 
in Normandy, with the office of steward, 
as his rightful inheritance, and numerous 
other valuable immunities, in a covenant 
witnessed by Robert, Earl of Gloucester 
and several other powerful nobles, 
which covenant contained the singular 
clause, " that neither the Earl of Anjou, 
the Empress's husband, nor herself, nor 
her children, would ever make peace 
with the burgesses of London, but with 
the consent of him the said Geoffrey, 
because they were his mortal enemies/' 
Besides this, he had a second charter, 
dated at Westminster, recreating him 

Earl of Essex. Of these proceedings 
King Stephen, having information, 
seized upon the Earl in the court, 
then at St. Albans, some say after a 
bloody affray, in which the Earl of 
Arundel, being thrown into the water 
with his horse, very narrowly escaped 
drowning ; certain it is, that to regain 
his liberty, the Earl of Essex was con- 
strained, not only to give up the Tower 
of London, but his own Castles of 
Walden and Blessey. Wherefore, being 
transported with wrath, he fell to spoil 
and rapine, invading the king's demense 
lands and others, plundering the abbeys 
of St. Albans and Ramsay : which last 
having surprised at an early hour in the 
morning, he expelled the monks there- 
from, made a fort of the church, and 
sold their religious ornaments to reward 
his soldiers ; in which depredations he 
was assisted by his brother-in-law, Wil- 
liam de Say, a stout and warlike man, 
and one Daniel, a counterfeit monk. At 
last, being publicly excommunicated for 
his many outrages, he besieged the 
Castle of Burwell, in Kent, and going 
unhelmed, in consequence of the heat 
of the weather, he was shot in the head 
with an arrow, of which wound he soon 
afterwards died. This noble outlaw had 
married Rohesia, daughter of Alberic de 
Vere, Earl of Oxford, Chief Justice of 
England, and had issue, Ernulph, 
Geoffrey, William and Robert ; and by 
a former wife, whose name is not men- 
tioned, a daughter Alice, who married 
John de Lacy, constable of Chester. Of 
bis death, Dugdale thus speaks : "Also 
that for these outrages, having incurred 
the penalty of excommunication, he 
happened to be mortally wounded, at a 
little town, called Burwell ; whereupon, 
with great contrition for his sins, and 
making what satisfaction he could, there 
came at last some of the knights tem- 
plars to him, and putting on him the 
habit of their order, with a red cross, 
carried his dead corpse into their orchard, 
at the old Temple, in London, and cof- 
fining it in lead hanged it on a crooked 
tree. Likewise, that after some time, 
by the industry and expenses of William, 
whom he had constituted Prior of Wal- 
den, his absolution was obtained from 
Pope Alexander TIL, so that his body 
was received among Christians, and 
divers offices celebrated for him; but 
that when the prior endeavoured to take 



down the coffin and carry it to Walden, 
the templars being aware of the design, 
buried it privately in the church-yard of 
the NEW TEMPLE, viz. in the porch 
before the west door." 
. William de Mandeville, last surviving 
son of this famous noble, succeeded as 
third Earl of Essex, at the decease of his 
brother Geoffry, and not long after made: 
a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. At hisj 
death, which occurred in 1190, the feudal j 
lordship and estates he enjoyed devolved 
on his aunt, Beatrix, wife of William de 
Say 1 ; and from her, passed to the hus- 
band of her grand-daughter the cele- 
brated Geoffrey Fitz Piers, Justice of 
England, whom Matthew Paris charac- 
terizes as e ' ruling the reins of govern 
ment so, that after his death, the realm 
was like a ship in a tempest without a 
pilot." His only daughter and eventual 
heiress, Maud, wedded Robert de Bohun, 
Earl of Hereford, and had a son, Hum- 
phrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford and 
Essex, with whose male descendants the 
latter Earldom continued until the 
decease in 13J2, of Humphrey de Bohun, 
Earl of Hereford, Northampton and 
Essex, whose elder daughter and co. 
heir, Alianore, married Thomas of 
W r oodstock, Duke of Gloucester, sixth 
son of Edward III., and was mother of 
Anne Plantagenet, the consort of Wil- 
liam Bourchier, Earl of Ewe in Nor- 
mandy. Of this alliance, the son and 
heir Henry Bourchier, Earl of Ewe, ob- 
tained a patent of the Earldom of Essex 
in 1461, and was succeeded therein by 
his grandson, Henry Bourchier, 2nd 
Earl of Essex, at whose demise in 1 539, 
the representation of his illustrious 
house and of the Mandevilles and Bohuns, 
Earls of Essex, devolved on his sister, 
Cicely, wife of John Devereux, Lord 
Ferrers of Chartley, whose great-grand- 
son, Walter Devereux, 2nd Viscount 
Hereford, was raised in 1572 to the 
Earldom of Essex, a title that expired 
with Robert Devereux, 3rd Earl, the 
Parliamentary General. It was however 
revived in about fifteen years after in the 
person of Arthur, Lord Capel, whose wife, 
the Lady Elizabeth Percy, was grand- 
daughter of Lady Dorothy Devereux, 
sister of Robert, Earl of Essex, the 
favourite of Queen Elizabeth. Thus the 
present Earl of Essex can deduce an 
unbroken line of descent through each 
sucsessive family that held the honour, 
from Geoffrey de Mandeville upon 

whom the Earldom of Essex was con- 
ferred by King Stephen. 

MARMYON. The chiefs of this great 
house are stated to have been hereditary 
champions to the Dukes of Normandy, 
prior to the Conquest of England : cer- 
tain it is that Robert de Marmyon, Lord 
of Fonteney, obtained from his royal 
master, not long after the Battle of 
Hastings, a grant of the manors of 
Tamworth, co. Warwick and Scrivelsby, 
co. Lincoln, the latter to be held " by the 
service of performing the office of cham- 
pion at the King's Coronation." His de- 
scendants and eventual coheiresses were 
Joan Cromwell, wife of Alexander, Lord 
Frevile, and Margaret de Ludlow, wife 
of Sir John Dymoke : between whom 
his estates were partitioned, Freville re- 
ceiving Tamworth, and Dymoke, Scri- 
velsby with the championship of England, 
which is still held by his representative 
Sir HENRY DYMOKE, Bart, of Scri- 

MALEUILE. The great Northern 
House of Melville claims this Norman as 
the patriarch of their race. Galfrid de 
Maleville, the earliest of the family who 
appears in Scottish history, had the ho- 
nour of being the first Justiciary of Scot- 
land on record. From him descend the 
Earls of Melville. 

MARTEINE. This entry on the Battle 
Abbey Roll refers to the famous Martin 
de Tours, who came over from Normandy 
with the Conqueror, and was distin- 
guished at the battle of Hastings. Sub- 
sequently he acquired by conquest, as 
one of the Lords Marchers, a large dis- 
trict in Pembrokeshire, called Cemaes or 
KEMES, and became Palatine Baron 
thereof, exercising within his territory, 
subject to feudal homage to the King, ajl 
the jura regalia, which, at that period, 
appertained to the crown of the English 
monarch. He made Newport the head 
of his Palatinate, and there erected his 
castle, the ruins of which still exist. 
From this potent noble, the Palatine 
Barony of Kernes has descended to the 
Bronwydd, co. Cardigan, who derives 
from Martin de Tours, through the fami- 
lies of Owen of Henllys, and Lloyd of 
Penpedwast. He holds the lordship by 
the same tenure, and exercises the jura 
regalia in the same manner as his great 
'ancestor did under the Conqueror. New- 
'port, the " caput baronise," has been, 
time immemorial, under the local juris- 



diction of a mayor (appointed annually 
by Mr. Lloyd of Bronwydd,) and twelve 
burgesses : courts leet and baron are held 
at stated periods in the town, where all 
the business of the lordship is transacted, 
fresh grants of land given by the bur- 
gesses, under the sanction of the lord, 
and other affairs settled. The lordship 
is fifty miles in circumference, and each 
farm in it pays what is called a " chief 
rent " to Mr. Lloyd, of Bronwydd. He 
is obliged to walk the boundaries every 
five years, a task which generally occu- 
pies a week. 

The immediate male descendants of Mar- 
tin de Tours were summoned to parliament 
in theBaronyMartin,which,at the decease 
of William, Lord Martin, in 1326, fell into 
abeyance between his heirs, Eleanor Co- 
lumbers, Irs sister, and James de Audley, 
his nephew, as it still continues with 
their representatives. 

MARE. The descendants of this Nor- 
man knight occupied aprominent position 
in Staffordshire, in the time of the early 
Plantagenets. William de Mere occurs 
as High Sheriff of that county, temp. 
Edward II., and in the next reign, Peter 
de la Mere filled the speaker's chair in the 
House of Commons. At an early period, 
the family possessed the manor of Maer, 
co. Stafford, and are also found resident 
at Norton, in the Moors. The name is 
spelt, in ancient deeds, de Mere, de 
Mare, but the more recent orthography 

MORTIMER. Ralph de Mortimer, sup- 
posed to have been son of the famous 
Norman general, Roger de Mortimer, 
and to have been related to the Con- 
ueror, held a principal command at the 
mttle of Hastings ; and, shortly after, as 
he most puissant of the victor's captains, 
was sent into the Marches of Wales to 
ncounter Edric, Earl of Shrewsbury, 
vho still resisted the Norman yoke. This 
lobleman, after much difficulty and a 
ong siege in his castle of Wigmore, 
VIortimer subdued, and delivered into 
he king's hands; when, in requital of 
lis good services, he obtained a grant of 
all Edric' s estates, and seated himself at 
Wigmore. Thus arose, in England, the 
llustrious house of Mortimer, destined 
o occupy the most prominent place on 
he roll of the Plantagenet nobility, and 
o transmit to the royal line of York a 
right to the diadem of England, which, 
after the desolating contests of the Roses, 
.riumphed in the person of Edward, 
of March, who ascended the throne 

is Mayer. 

The first of this name we 

can trace is Peter de Mauley, a Poictevin 
Baron of Mulegrave and Lord of Don- 
caster, in Yorkshire. He appears to have 
been an adherent of King John, and to 
have acquired his English estates in mar- 
riage with Isabel, daughter and heir ol 
Robert de Thurnham, whose wife was 
Joanna Fossard, heiress of Mulgrave, 
descendant, probably, of the Domesday 
Nigel. Cam den says, that " by marriage 
Peter de Mauley came to a great inhe- 
ritance at Mulgrave, and that the estate 
was enjoyed by seven Peters, Lords de 
Malo-lacu, successively, who bore for 
their arms " or, a bend sa." But the 
seventh, who had summons to parliamen 
from 22 Ric. II. to 3 Hen V., dying 
s. p., his possessions were divided be 
tween Sir John Bigot, Knt , and George 
Salvaine, of Duffield, who had marriec 
his sisters. The manor of Mulgrave i: 
now the property of the Marquess o 


as fourth of his name, Roger, Lord Morti- 
mer of Wigmore, so notorious in our his- 
tories as the paramour of Queen Isabel, 
was grandson of Roger Mortimer, the il- 
ustrious adherent of Henry III. in the ba- 
ronial war, to whom Prince Edward was 
ndebted for his deliverance from captivi- 
;y after the battle of Lewes. The exploit 
s thus recorded by Dugdale : " Seeing 
his sovereign in this great distress, 
and nothing but ruin and misery at- 
tending himself, and all other the king's 
loyal subjects, he took no "rest till he had 
contrived some way for their deliverance ; 
and to that end sent a swift horse to the 
prince, then prisoner with the king in 
the castle of Hereford, with intimation 
that he should obtain leave to ride out 
for recreation, into a place called Wid- 
mersh ; and that upon sight of a person 
mounted on a white horse, at the foot of 
Tulington Hill, and waving his bonnet 
(which was the Lord of Croft, as it was 
said), he should haste towards him with 
all possible speed. Which being accord- 
ingly done (though all the country there- 
abouts were thither called to prevent his 
escape), setting spurs to that horse he 
overwent them all. Moreover, that being 
come to the park of Tulington, this 
Roger met him with five hundred armed 
men ; and seeing many to pursue, chased 
them back to the gates of Hereford, 
making great slaughter amongst them." 
At the ignominious death, on the com- 



mon gallows, of Ro^er Mortimer, Queen 
Isabel's favourite, his earldom of March 
became forfeited, but was restored to his 
grandson, Roger, Lord Mortimer, a war- 
rior of distinction and a Knight of the 
Garter. His son and successor, Edmund, 
Earl of March, espoused the Lady Phi- 
lippa Plantagenet, daughter and heir of 
Lionel, Duke of Clarence, and dying in 

Ireland), left with two daughters, the 
elder, Elizabeth, wife of the gallant 
Hotspur, three sons. 

whom, Roger, fourth Earl of March, was 
father of the Lady Anne Mortimer, who 

wedded Richard Plantagenet, Earl of Edward III.,) and was summoned as a 

Cambridge, and conveyed to the house 
of York, the right to the Crown of Eng- 

ble manner possible, in one of the cham- 
bers at Berkeley Castle. So conscious 
was Maltravers of guilt, that he fled im- 
mediately after the foul deed into Ger- 
many, where he remained for several 
years, having had judgment of death 
passed upon him in England ; but in the 
19th of the same reign, King Edward 
being in Flanders, Lord Maltravers came 

1381 (being then Lord Lieutenant of and made a voluntary surrender of him- 

self to the King, who in consideration 
of his services abroad, granted him a 

the eldest of safe convoy into England to abide the 

decision of parliament ; in which he had 
afterwards a full and free pardon, (25 

BARON to take his seat therein. That 
was not, however, sufficient, King Ed- 

land ward constituted the murderer of his 

MONTRAUERS. Although none of father, soon after, Governor of the Isles 
the family founded by this Norman of Guernsey, Alderney, and Sarke. 
knight were barons by tenure or had' After the decease of this Lord Mai- 
summons to parliament before the time travers, the BARONY passed to his 

of the third Edward, yet were they an- 
ciently persons of note. In the reign 
of Henry I., within less than half a cen- 
tury after the Conquest, Hugh Mal- 
travers was a witness to the charter 
made by that Monarch to the Monks of 
Montacute in the county of Somerset ; 
and, in the 5th of Stephen, Maltravers 
gave a thousand marks of silver and one 
hundred pounds, for the widow of Hugh 
Delaval and lands of the said Hugh, 
during the term offifteen years and then 
to have the benefit of her dowry and 

The infamous part which John, Lord 
Maltravers, took in the cruel murder of 
King Edward II., is too well known to 
need recitation here enough is it to state 
that the wretched monarch was removed 
from the custody of Lord Berkeley, who 
had treated him with some degree of 
humanity, and placed under Lord Mal- 
travers and Sir Thomas Gournay, for the 
mere purpose of destruction, and that 
those ruffians ultimately fulfilled their 
diabolical commission in the most horri- 

granddaughter, (the eventual sold heiress 
of his predeceased son, Sir John Mal- 
travers,) Eleanor, wife of the Hon. John 
Fitz- Allan, whose son John was suin- 
moned to parliament as Lord Maltravers, 
and succeeded as eleventh Earl of Arun- 
del, and the Barony of Maltravers has 
since merged in that superior dignity, 
Lady Mary Fitz-allan, the daughter, 
and ultimately sole heiress of Henry, 
eighteenth Earl of Arundel, married 
Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, and 
brought the barony and earldom into 
the Howard family. These dignities 
descended to her son, Philip, who was 
ATTAINTED in the 32nd Elizabeth, 
when the barony fell under the attainder, 
but it was restored to his son, Thomas 
Howard, twentieth Earl of Arundel ; and 
by Act of Parliament, 3rd Charles I., 
gether with those of Fitz-Allan, Clun, 
and Oswaldestre, was annexed to the 
title, dignity, and honour of ARUNDEL, 
and settled upon Thomas Howard, then 
Earl of Arundel. 

[To be continued. ,] 




THE singular story of this miserable man's life of guilt is to be found 
included in almost every English collection of criminal trials. For its 
authenticity, it is not here intended to vouch further than that this 
William Parsons was tried, convicted, and eventually executed, and that 
as he was the member and heir of a highly honourable family, it is more 
than probable the tale would, were it false, have been long before now 
contradicted. The account presents certainly one of the most extraor- 
dinary instances of perverseness in crime ever recorded : its very strange- 
ness makes it interesting, and affords the best excuse for its insertion 
here. A word or two, however, first about the family of Parsons, to 
which the subject of this melancholy history belonged. 
The Parsons were of Northamptonshire origin, and became afterwards 
seated at Boveny, in the county of Bucks. Sir John Parsons, Knt., of 
Boveny, married Elizabeth, daughter and sole heiress of Sir John Kidder- 
minster, of Langley in Buckinghamshire, and had a son, William Parsons, 
Esq., of Langley, who was created a baronet, the 9th of April, 1661. Sir 
William Parsons, the grandson of this first baronet, himself the third 
baronet, married for his first wife Frances, daughter of Henry Dutton, 
Esq., by whom he had issue, beside a son, John, who died young, and a 
daughter, Grace, to whom her maternal aunt, the Duchess of Northum- 
berland, left a considerable fortune, another son, WILLIAM, the subject 
of this narrative, who married Mary, daughter of John Frampton, Esq., 
of the Exchequer, and had an only surviving son, Mark. Sir William 
Parsons married, secondly, Isabella, fifth daughter and coheir of James 
Holt, Esq., of Castleton in Lancashire, and relict of Delaval Dutton, Esq., 
but had no other issue. Sir William died about 1760, and was succeeded 
by his grandson Sir Mark Parsons, who died unmarried in 1812, when 
the baronetcy became extinct. 

The history of William Parsons is as follows. 

William Parsons, the son of Sir William Parsons, Bart., was born in 
London, in the year 1717. He was placed under the care of a pious 
and learned divine at Pepper-harrow, in Surrey, where he received the 
first rudiments of education. In a little more than three years, he was 
removed to Eton College, where it was intended that he should qualify 
himself for one of the universities. 

While he was a scholar at Eton, he was detected in stealing a volume 
of Pope's Homer in the shop of a bookseller named Pote. Being charged 
with the fact, he confessed that he had stolen many other books at dif- 
ferent times. The case being represented to the master, Parsons under- 
went a very severe discipline. 

Though he remained at Eton nine years, his progress in learning was 
very inconsiderable. The youth was of so unpromising a disposition 


that Sir William determined to send him to sea, as the most probable 
means to prevent his destruction, and soon procured him the appointment 
of midshipman on board a man-of-war, then lying at Spithead under 
sailing orders for Jamaica, there to be stationed for three years. 

Some accident detaining the ship beyond the time when it was expected 
she would sail, Parsons applied for leave of absence, and went on shore; 
but having no intention to return, he immediately directed his course 
towards a small town about ten miles from Portsmouth, called Bishop's 
Waltham, where he soon ingratiated himself into the favour of the 
principal inhabitants. 

His figure being pleasing, and his manner of address easy and polite, 
he found but little difficulty in recommending himself to the ladies. 

He became greatly enamoured of a beautiful and accomplished young 
lady, the daughter of a physician of considerable practice, and prevailed 
upon her to promise she would yield her hand in marriage. 

News of the intended marriage coming to the knowledge of his father, 
Sir William, and his uncle, the latter hastened to Waltham to prevent a 
union which he apprehended would inevitably produce the ruin of the 
contracting parties. 

With much difficulty the uncle prevailed upon Parsons to return to 
the ship, which in a few days afterwards proceeded on her voyage. 

The ship had not been long arrived at the place of destination, when 
Parsons resolved to desert, and return to England, and soon found an 
opportunity of shipping himself on board the Sheerness man-of-war, 
then preparing to sail on her return home. 

Immediately after his arrival in England, he set out for Waltham, in 
order to visit the object of his desires ; but his uncle being apprised of 
his motions, repaired to the same place, and represented his character in 
so unfavourable, but at the same time in so just a manner, that it pre- 
vented the renewal of bis addresses to the physician's daughter. 

He went home with his uncle, who observed his conduct with a most 
scrupulous attention, and confined him, as much as possible, within 
doors. This generous relation at length exerted his interest to get the 
youth appointed midshipman on board his Majesty's ship the Romney, 
which was under orders for the Newfoundland station. 

Upon his return from Newfoundland, Parsons learnt, with infinite 
mortification, that the Duchess of Northumberland, to whom he was re- 
lated, had revoked a will made in his favour, and bequeathed to his 
sister a very considerable legacy, which he had expected to enjoy. He 
was repulsed by his friends and acquaintance, who would not in the least 
countenance his visits at their houses 3 and his circumstances now 
became exceedingly distressed. 

Thus situated, he applied to a gentleman named Bailey, with whom 
he had formerly lived on terms of intimacy; and his humanity induced 
him to invite Parsons to reside in his house, and to furnish him with the 
means of supporting the character of a gentleman. Mr. Bailey also was 
indefatigable in his endeavours to effect a reconciliation between young 
Parsons and his father, in which he at length succeeded. 

Sir William having prevailed upon his son to go abroad again, and 
procured him an appointment under the governor of James Fort, on the 
river Gambia, he embarked on board a vessel in the service of the Royal 
African Company. 

Parsons had resided at James Fort about six months, when a disagree- 


merit took place between him and Governor Aufleur ; in consequence of 
which the former signified a resolution of returning to England. Here- 
upon the governor informed him that he was commissioned to engage 
him as an indented servant for five years. Parsons warmly expostulated 
with the governor, declaring that his behaviour was neither that of a man 
of probity or a gentleman, and requested permission to return. But so 
far from complying, the governor issued orders to the sentinels to be 
particularly careful lest he should effect an escape. 

Notwithstanding every precaution, Parsons found means to get on 
board a homeward-bound vessel, and being followed by Mr. Aufleur, he 
was commanded to return, but cocking a pistol, and presenting: it to the 
governor, he declared he would fire upon any man who should presume 
to molest him. Hereupon the governor departed, and in a short time 
the ship sailed for England. 

Soon after his arrival in his native country, he received an invitation 
to visit an uncle who lived at Epsom, which he gladly accepted, and 
experienced a most cordial and friendly reception. 

He resided with his uncle about three months, and was treated with 
all imaginable kindness and respect. At length, the discovery of an act 
of misconduct on his part so incensed the old gentleman, that he dis- 
missed Parsons from his house. 

Reduced to the most deplorable state of poverty, he directed his 
course towards the metropolis ; and three halfpence being his whole 
stock of money, he subsisted four days upon the bread purchased with 
that small sum, quenching his thirst at the pumps he casually met with 
in the streets. He lay four nights in a hay-loft in Chancery-lane, belong- 
ing to the Master of the Rolls, by permission of the coachman, who 
pitied his truly deplorable case. 

At length he determined to apply for redress to an ancient gentle- 
woman, with whom he had been acquainted in his more youthful days, 
when she was in the capacity of companion to the Duchess of North- 
umberland. Weak and emaciated through want of food, his appearance 
was rendered still more miserable by the uncleanliness and disofder of 
his apparel ; and when he appeared before the old lady, she tenderly 
compassionated his unfortunate situation, and recommended him to a 
decent family in Cambridge-street, with whom he resided some time in 
a very comfortable manner, the old gentlewoman defraying the charge 
of his lodging and board ; and a humane gentleman, to whom she 
had communicated his case, supplying him with money for common 

Sir William came to town at the beginning of the winter, and received 
an unexpected visit from his son, who dropped upon his knees, and sup- 
plicated forgiveness with the utmost humility and respect. His mother- 
in-law was greatly enraged at his appearance, and upbraided her husband 
with being foolishly indulgent to so graceless a youth, at the same time 
declaring that she would not live in the house where he was permitted 
to enter. 

Sir William asked him what mode of life he meant to adopt ? and his 
answer was, that he was unable to determine ; but would cheerfully 
pursue such measures as so indulgent a parent should think proper to 
recommend. The old gentleman then advised him to enter as a private 
man in the horse-guards, which he approved of, saying, he would imme- 
diately offer himself as a volunteer. 


Upon mentioning his intention to the adjutant, he was informed that 
he must pay seventy guineas for his admission into the corps. This news 
proved exceedingly afflicting, as he had but little hope that his father 
would advance the necessary sum. Upon returning to his father's 
lodgings, he learnt that he had set out for the country, and left him a 
present of only five shillings. 

Driven now nearly to a state of distraction, he formed the desperate 
resolution of putting an end to his life, and repaired to St. James's Park, 
intending to throw himself into Rosamond's Pond. While he stood on 
the brink of the water, waiting for an opportunity of carrying his impious 
design into effect, it occurred to him, that a letter he had received, men- 
tioning the death of an aunt, and that she had bequeathed a legacy to his 
brother, might be made use of to his own advantage j and he immedi- 
ately declined the thoughts of destroying himself. 

He produced the letter to several persons, assuring them that the 
writer had been misinformed respecting the legacy, which in reality was 
left to himself; and under the pretext of being entitled to it, he obtained 
money and effects from different people to a considerable amount. 
Among those who were deceived by this stratagem was a tailor in De- 
vereux-court in the Strand, who gave him credit for several genteel suits 
of clothes. 

The money and other articles thus fraudulently obtained, enabled him 
to engage in scenes of gaiety and dissipation ; and he seemed to enter- 
tain no idea that his happiness would be but of short duration. 

Accidentally meeting the brother of the young lady to whom he had 
made professions of love at Waltham, he intended to renew his acquain- 
tance with him, and his addresses to his sister ; but the young gentleman 
informed Parsons that his sister died suddenly a short time after his 
departure from Waltham. 

Parsons endeavoured, as much as possible, to cultivate the friendship 
of the above young gentleman, and represented his case in so plausible 
a manner, as to obtain money from him, at different times, to a consi- 
derable amount. 

Parsons' creditors now became exceedingly importunate, and he thought 
there was no probability of relieving himself from his difficulties, but by 
connecting himself in marriage with a woman of fortune. 

Being eminently qualified in those accomplishments which are known 
to have a great influence over the female world, Parsons soon ingratiated 
himself into the esteem of a young lady possessed of a handsome inde- 
pendency bequeathed her by her lately deceased father. He informed 
his creditors that he had a prospect of an advantageous marriage ; and 
as they were satisfied that the lady had a good fortune, they supplied 
him with every thing necessary for prosecuting the amour, being per- 
suaded that, if the expected union took place, they should have no diffi- 
culty in recovering their respective demands. 

The marriage was solemnized on the lOth of February, 174O, in the 
twenty-third year of his age. On this event, the uncle, who lived at 
Epsom, visited him in London, and gave him the strongest assu- 
rances that he would exert every possible endeavour to promote his 
interest and happiness, on condition that he would avoid such pro- 
ceedings as would render him unworthy of friendship and protection. 
His relations in general were perfectly satisfied with the connexion 
he hail made, and hoped that his irregular and volatile disposition 


would be corrected by the prudent conduct of his bride, who was 
justly esteemed a young lady of great sweetness of temper, virtue, and 

A few weeks after his marriage, his uncle interceded in his behalf with 
the Right Honourable Arthur Onslow ; and through the interest of that 
gentleman he was appointed an ensign in the thirty- fourth regiment of 

He now discharged all his debts, which proved highly satisfactory to 
all his relations ; and this conduct was the means of his obtaining further 
credit in times of future distress. 

He hired a very handsome house in Poland-street, where he resided 
two years, in which time he had two children, one of whom died very 
young. From Poland-street, he removed to Panton-square, and the ut- 
most harmony subsisted between him and his wife, who were much 
respected by their relations and acquaintances. 

But it must be observed, that though his conduct in other respects had 
been irreproachable from the time of his marriage, he was guilty of un- 
pardonable indiscretion as to his manner of living j for he kept three 
saddle-horses, a chaise and pair, several unnecessary servants, and 
engaged in many other superfluous expenses that his income could not 

Unfortunately Parsons became acquainted with an infamous gambler, 
who seduced him to frequent gaming-houses, and to engage in play. He 
lost considerable sums, which were shared between the pretended friend 
of Parsons, and his wicked accomplices. 

Parsons was now promoted to a lieutenancy in Colonel Cholmondely's 
regiment, which was ordered into Flanders, and was accompanied to that 
country by the abandoned gamester, whom he considered as his most 
valuable friend. The money he lost in gaming, and the extravagant 
manner in which he lived, in a short time involved him in such diffi- 
culties that he was under the necessity of selling his commission, in 
order to discharge his debts contracted in Flanders. The commission 
being sold, Parsons and his treacherous companion returned to England. 

His arrival was no sooner known than his creditors were extremely 
urgent for the immediate discharge of their respective claims, which in- 
duced him to take a private lodging in Gough-square, where he passed 
under the denomination of Captain Brown. He pretended to be an un- 
married man ; and saw his wife only when appointments were made to 
meet at a public-house. 

His creditors having discovered the place of his retreat, he deemed it 
prudent to remove; and at this juncture an opportunity offered by which 
he hoped to retrieve his fortune -, and he therefore embarked as captain 
of marines on board the Dursley privateer. 

Soon after the arrival of the ship at Deal, Parsons went on shore, 
provided with pistols, being determined not to submit to an arrest, 
which he supposed would be attempted. lie had no sooner landed on 
the beach, than he was approached by five or six men, one of whom 
attempted to seize him ; but Parsons, stepping aside, discharged one of 
the pistols, and lodged a ball in the man's thigh. He then said, he was 
well provided with weapons, and would fire upon them if they presumed 
to give him further molestation. Ilertupon the otlicers retreated ; and 
Parsons returned to the ship, which sailed from Deal the following 



They had been in the Channel about a week, when they made prize 
of a French privateer, which they carried into the port of Cork. Parsons 
being now afflicted with a sickness that prevailed among the French 
prisoners, was sent on shore for the recovery of his health. During his 
illness, the vessel sailed on another cruize, and he was no sooner in a 
condition to permit him to leave his apartment, than he became anxious 
to partake of the fashionable amusements. 

In order to recruit his finances, which were nearly exhausted, he drew 
bills of exchange on three merchants in London, on which he raised 60/,; 
and before advice could be transmitted to Cork, that he had no effects in 
the hands of the persons on whom he had drawn the bills, he embarked 
on board a vessel bound for England. 

He landed at Plymouth, where he resided some time under a military 
character, to support his claim to which he was provided with a coun- 
terfeit commission. He frequented all places of public resort, and par- 
ticularly where gaming was permitted. His money being nearly ex- 
pended, he obtained a hundred pounds from a merchant of Plymouth, 
by.means of a false draft upon an alderman of London. Some time 
after the discovery of the fraud, the injured party saw Parsons a trans- 
port prisoner on board a ship bound to Virginia, lying in Catwater Bay, 
where he assured him of an entire forgiveness, and made him a present 
of a guinea. 

From Plymouth, Parsons repaired to London, and his money being 
nearly spent, he committed the following fraud, in conjunction with a 
woman of the town : taking his accomplice to a tavern in the Strand 
(where he was known), he represented her as an heiress, who had con- 
sented to a private marriage, and requested the landlord to send imme- 
diately for a clergyman. The parson being arrived, and about to begin 
the ceremony, Parsons pretended to recollect that he had forgotten to 
provide a ring, and ordered the waiter to tell some shopkeeper in the 
neighbourhood to bring some plain gold rings. Upon this the clergyman 
begged to recommend a very worthy man, who kept a jeweller's shop in 
the neighbourhood ; and Parsons said it was a matter of indifference 
with whom he laid out his money ; adding, that as he wished to compli- 
ment his bride with some small present, the tradesman might also bring 
some diamond rings. 

The rings being brought, and one of each chosen, Parsons produced 
a counterfeit draft, saying, the jeweller might either give him change 
then, or call for payment after the ceremony j on which the jeweller 
retired, saying, he would attend again in the afternoon. Jn a little time, 
the woman formed a pretence for leaving the room, and upon her not 
returning soon, our hero affected great impatience, and, without taking 
his hat, quitted the apartment, saying, he would enquire of the people of 
the house whether his bride had not been detained by some unforeseen 

After waiting a considerable time, the clergyman called the landlord j 
and as neither Parsons nor the woman could be found, it was rightly 
concluded, that their whole intention was to perpetrate a fraud. In the 
mean time, our hero and his accomplice met at an appointed place, and 
divided their booty. 

Soon after the above transaction, Parsons intimated to a military 
officer, that, on account of the many embarrassments he was under, he 


was determined to join the rebel army, as the only expedient by which 
he could avoid being lodged in prison. The gentleman represented the 
danger of engaging in such an adventure, and lest his distress should 
precipitate him to any rash proceeding, generously supplied him with 
forty guineas, to answer present exigencies. 

He soon after borrowed the above gentleman's horse, pretending that 
he had occasion to go a few miles into the country, on a matter of busi- 
ness j but he immediately rode to Smithfield, where he sold the horse at 
a very inadequate price. 

That he might escape the resentment of the gentleman whom he had 
treated in so unworthy a manner, he lodged an information against him, 
as being disaffected to the government : in consequence of which he was 
deprived of his commission, and suffered an imprisonment of six months. 
He exhibited informations of a similar nature against two other gentle- 
men, who had been most liberal benefactors to him, in revenge for re- 
fusing any longer to supply him with the means of indulging his extra- 
vagant and profligate disposition. 

In the year 1745, he counterfeited a draft upon one of the collectors 
of the excise, in the name of the Duke of Cumberland, for five hundred 
pounds. He carried the draft to the collector, who paid him fifty pounds 
in part, being all the cash that remained in his hands. 

He went to a tailor, saying, he meant to employ him, on the recom- 
mendation of a gentleman of the army, whom he had long supplied with 
clothes ; adding, that a captain's commission was preparing for him at 
the War-office. The tailor furnished him with several suits of clothes j 
but not being paid according to agreement, he entertained some suspi- 
cion as to the responsibility of his new customer j and therefore enquired 
at the War-office respecting Captain Brown, and learnt that a commis- 
sion was making out for a gentleman of that name. Unable to get any 
part of the money due to him, and determined to be no longer trifled 
with, he instituted a suit at common-law, but was nonsuited, having laid 
his action in the fictitious name of Brown, and it appearing that Parsons 
was the defendant's real name. 

Parsons sent a porter from the Ram Inn, in Smithfield, with a coun- 
terfeit draft upon Sir Joseph Hankey and Co., for five hundred pounds. 
Parsons followed the man, imagining that if he[came out of Sir Joseph's 
house alone, he would have received the money j and that if he was ac- 
companied by any person, it would be a strong proof of the forgery 
being discovered j and as he observed Sir Joseph and the porter get into 
a hackney-coach, he resolved not to return to the inn. 

He next went to a widow named Bottomley, who lived near St. George's 
Church, and saying that he had contracted to supply the regiment to 
which he belonged with hats, gave her an order to the amount of a 
hundred and sixty pounds. He had no sooner got possession of the hats, 
than he sold them to a Jew for one-half of the sum he had agreed to pay 
for them. 

Being strongly apprehensive that he could not long avoid being 
arrested by some of his numerous and highly exasperated creditors, by 
means of counterfeit letters, he procured himself to be taken into cus- 
tody, as a person disaffected to the king and government ; and was sup- 
ported without expense, in the house of one of the king's messengers, 
for the space of eighteen months. 


Being released from the messenger's house, he revolved in his mind a 
variety of schemes for eluding the importunity of his creditors, and at 
length determined to embark for Holland. 

He remained in Holland a few months, and when his money was 
nearly expended he returned to England. A few days after his arrival in 
London, he went to a masquerade, where he engaged in play to the 
hazard of every shilling he possessed, and was so fortunate as to obtain 
a sufficient sum for his maintenance for several months. 

His circumstances being again distressed, he wrote in pressing terms 
to his brother-in-law, who was an East India director, intreating that he 
would procure him a commission in the Company's service, either by 
land or sea. The purport of the answer was, that a gentleman in the 
Temple was authorized to give the supplicant a guinea, but that it would 
be fruitless for him to expect any further favours. 

Having written a counterfeit draft, he went to Ranelagh on a masque 
rade night, where he passed it to a gentleman who had won some small 
sums of him. The party who received the draft offered it for payment 
in a day or two afterwards, when it was proved to be a counterfeit ; in 
consequence of which Parsons was apprehended, and committed to 
Wood-street Compter. 

As no prosecutor appeared, Parsons was necessarily acquitted j but a 
detainer being lodged, charging him with an offence similar to the above, 
he was removed toMaidstone Gaol, in order for trial at the Lent Assizes 
at Rochester. 

Mr. Carey, the keeper of the prison, treated Parsons with great huma- 
nity, allowing him to board in his family, and indulging him in every 
privilege that he could grant, without a manifest breach of the duties of 
his office. But such was the ingratitude of Parsons, that he formed a 
plan, which, had it taken effect, would have utterly ruined the man to 
whom he was indebted in such great obligations. His intention was, 
privately to take the keys from Mr. Carey's apartment ; and not only to 
escape himself, but even to give liberty to every prisoner in the gaol : 
and this scheme he communicated to a man accused of being a smuggler, 
who reported the matter to Mr. Carey, desiring him to listen at an ap- 
pointed hour at night, when he would hear a conversation that would 
prove his intelligence to be authentic. Mr. Carey attended at the ap- 
pointed time, and being convinced of the ingratitude and perfidy of Par- 
sons, he abridged him of the indulgences he had before enjoyed, and 
caused him to be closely confined. 

Being convicted at the assizes at Rochester, he was sentenced to 
transportation for seven years j and in tbe following September he was 
put on board the Thames, Captain Dobbins, bound for Maryland, in 
company with upwards of one hundred and seventy other convicts, fifty 
of whom died in the voyage. In November, 1749, Parsons was landed 
at Annapolis, in Maryland , and having remained in a state of slavery 
about seven weeks, a gentleman of considerable property and influence, 
who was not wholly unacquainted with his family, compassionating his 
unfortunate situation, obtained his freedom, and received him at his house 
in a most kind and hospitable manner. 

Parsons had not been in the gentleman's family many days before he 
rode off with a horse which was lent him by his benefactor, and pro- 
ceeded towards Virginia ; on the borders of which country he stopped a 


gentleman on horseback, and robbed him of five pistoles, a moidore, and 
ten dollars. 

A few days after, he stopped a lady and gentleman in a chaise, attended 
by a negro servant, and robbed them of eleven guineas and some silver : 
after which he directed his course to the Potomack river, where finding 
a ship nearly ready to sail for England, he embarked, and after a passage 
of twenty-five days landed at Whitehaven. 

He now produced a forged letter, in the name of one of his relations, 
to a capital merchant of Whitehaven, signifying that he was entitled to 
the family estate, in consequence of his father's decease, and prevailed 
upon him to discount a false draft upon a banker in London for seventy- 
five pounds. 

Upon his arrival in the metropolis, he hired a handsome lodging at the 
west end of the town ; but he almost constantly resided in houses of ill 
fame, where the money he had so unjustifiably obtained was soon dis- 

Having hired a horse, he rode to Hounslow-heath, where, between ten 
and eleven o'clock at night, he stopped a post-chaise, in which were two 
gentlemen, whom he robbed of five guineas, some silver, and a watch. 

A short time afterwards he stopped a gentleman near Turnham-green, 
about twelve o'clock at night, and robbed him of thirty shillings, and a 
gold ring. The latter, the gentleman requested might be returned, as 
it was his wife's wedding-ring. Parsons complied with the request, 
and voluntarily returned five shillings, saying at the same time, that 
nothing but the most pressing necessity could have urged him to the 
robbery ; after which the gentleman shook hands with the robber, assur- 
ing him that, on account of the civility of his behaviour he would not ap- 
pear to prosecute, if he should hear of his being apprehended. 

He attempted to rob a coach and four near Kensington, but hearing 
some company on the road, he proceeded towards Hounslow, and on his 
way thither overtook a farmer, and robbed him of between forty and 
fifty shillings. He then took the road to Colnbrook, and robbed a man 
servant of two guineas and a half, and a silver watch. After this he rode 
to Windsor, and returned to London by a different road. 

His next expedition was on the Hounslow-road ; and at the entrance 
of the heath he stopped two gentlemen, and robbed them of seven 
guineas, some silver and a curiously wrought silver snuff-box. 

Returning to his lodgings near Hyde-park-corner one evening, lie 
overtook a footman in Piccadilly, and joining company with him, a fami- 
liar conversation took place, in the course of which Parsons learnt that 
the other was to set out early on the following Sunday with a portman- 
teau, containing cash and notes to a considerable value, the property of 
his master, who was then at Windsor. 

On the Sunday morning he rode towards Windsor, intending to rob 
the footman. Soon after he had passed Turnham-green, he overtook 
two gentlemen, one of whom was Mr. Fuller, who had prosecuted him 
at Rochester, and who perfectly recollecting his person, warned him not 
to approach. He however paid no attention to what Mr. Fuller said, 
but still continued sometimes behind and sometimes before them, though 
at a very inconsiderable distance. 

Upon coming into the town of Hounslow, the gentlemen alighted, and 
commanded Parsons to surrender, adding, that if he did not instantly 


comply, they would alarm the town. He now dismounted, and earnestly 
entreated that he might be permitted to speak to^ them in private, 
which they consented to ; and the parties being introduced to a room 
at an inn, Parsons surrendered his pistols, which were loaded and primed, 
and supplicated for mercy in the most pathetic terms. 

In all probability he would have been permitted to escape, had not 
Mr. Day, landlord of the Rose and Crown at Hounslow, come into the 
room, and advised that he might be detained, as he conceived him very 
nearly to answer the description of a highwayman by whom the roads 
in that part of the country had been long infested. He was secured at 
the inn till the next day, and then examined by a magistrate, who com- 
mitted him to Newgate. 

Parsons was now arraigned for returning from transportation before 
the expiration of the term of his sentence: nothing therefore was neces- 
sary to convict him but the identifying of his person. This being done, 
he received sentence of death. His distressed father and wife used all 
their interest to obtain a pardon for him, but in vain : he was an old 
offender, and judged by no means a fit object for mercy. 

While Parsons remained in Newgate, his behaviour was such that it 
could not be determined whether he entertained a proper idea of his 
dreadful situation. There is indeed but too much reason to fear that 
the hopes of a reprieve (in which he deceived himself even to the last 
moments of his life) induced him to neglect the necessary preparation 
for eternity. 

His taking leave of his wife afforded a scene extremely affecting : he 
recommended to her parental protection his only child, and regretted 
that his misconduct had put it in the power of a censorious world to 
reflect upon both the mother and son. 

He joined with fervent zeal in the devotional exercises, at the place of 



, to. 
" We do love these ancient ruins ; 

We never tread upon them, but we set 
Our foot upon some reverend history." 

FEW of " the Castles of England" can be traced to so remote a period as 
Coningsburgh. Authentic evidence carries the historical enquirer to 
Saxon times, and by the shadowy light of tradition, he may ascend even 
to the period of the early Britons. A mound near the castle is still 
pointed out as the tomb of Hengist, the Saxon chief, who is recorded by 
Jeffery of Monmouth to have been defeated under the walls of the 
fortress, by Aurelius Ambrosius, King of Britain, and to have suffered 
decapitation. Leaving, however, the dubious ways of tradition, we 
find, from the Norman Survey, that at the time of the Conquest, Conings- 
burgh was the head of a very extensive fee, and that this fee, consoli- 
dated in Saxon times, had belonged, under the peaceful rule of the 
Confessor, to Earl Harold, who subsequently ascended the throne, and 
eventually fell at Hastings. By the Conqueror, it was granted entire to 
WILLIAM DE WARREN, husband of his daughter Gundred, and in their 
descendants it remained, with one slight interval, until the reign of 
Edward III. We will not here enter on the history of the illustrious 
house of Warren j suffice it to say, that it was one of the most powerful 
in peace and in war, of the many that overawed the kingly authority of 
the early Plantagenets. At the decease, in 1347, of John de Warren, 
8th Earl of Surrey, without legitimate issue, Coningsburgh fell to the 
Crown, and, within seven-and- thirty days after, was settled on EDMUND 
OF LAN OLE Y, a younger son of the King, Edward III. This prince, whom 
Hardy ng describes as more addicted " to hunte, and also to hawkeyng," 
than to the duties of " the councell and the parlyament," held, in pecu- 
liar esteem, his Yorkshire demesne, affording as it did unrivalled oppor- 
tunities for enjoying the sports of the field. He spent there no small 
portion of his time, and his name, consequently, appears less frequently 
than those of his brothers, in the public affairs of the reigns of Edward 
and Richard. By his father he was created Earl of Cambridge, and by 
his nephew, the second Richard, advanced to the Dukedom of York. He 
married one of the two daughters and coheirs of Peter the Cruel, King 
of Castile and Leon, and brought his Spanish bride to Coningsburgh, 
where she constantly resided, and where she gave birth to her second 
son, Richard, who, according to the fashion of the Plantagenets, was 
surnamed " of Coningsburgh," from the place of his nativity. This prince 
married the Lady Anne Mortimer, daughter of Roger, Earl of March, 
and great granddaughter of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, and thus brought 
to the House of York the claim to the Crown, which originated the 
Wara of the Roses. This alliance with the discontented family of Mor- 


timer, may have probably estranged the Earl of Cambridge from his 
allegiance, and have led him into the conspiracy which cost him his life 5 
he was beheaded in 1415, leaving his widow (Maud Clifford, a lady whom 
he had espoused after the death of his first wife, Anna Mortimer,) in pos- 
session of Coriingsburgh. The Countess of Cambridge, in her long 
widowhood, for she lived 'till 1446, resided much in Yorkshire, and had 
many transactions with the families around. At her decease, her step- 
son, Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, succeeded to the great estates 
of his father, and not long after asserted his right to the diadem of 
England. The contest that ensued is too well known to need more than 
a passing word : at the Battle of Wake field, fought within a short dis- 
tance of the Castle of Coningsburgh, Richard, Duke of York, met his 
death, leaving his son, Edward, Earl of March, the inheritor of his claim 
and his spirit. The next year occurred the great Battle of Towton, in 
which the White Rose triumphed, and the Earl ascended the throne as 
Edward IV. The Lords of Coningsburgh thus became Kings of England, 
and so continued until the castle and demesne lands were granted, by 
patent, by Queen Elizabeth to her kinsman, Henry Gary, Lord Hunsdon. 
In the interval, however, this princely residence was almost utterly de- 
serted, and the gradual decay of the buildings which formed the resi- 
dence of the Warrens, and the early princes of the house of York, may 
be dated from this era. With the Carys, Coningsburgh remained for 
about a century. Their eventual heiress, Lady Mary Gary, only child of 
John Gary, Lord Hunsdon and Earl of Dover, married William Heve- 
ningham, Esq., of Heveningham, in Sussex, one of King Charles* judges, 
and died immensely rich in 1696, when her property descended to her 
granddaughter and heiress Gary Newton, who wedded Edward Coke, 
Esq., of Holkham, in Norfolk, and had three sons and two daughters. 
The eldest of the former was Thomas Coke, created Earl of Leicester in 
1744 : and the second, Edward Coke, Esq., of Longford, co. Derby, who 
succeeded to Coningsburgh, and died in the prime of life, A.D. 1733. In 
pursuance of the directions contained in his will, his Yorkshire estates 
were sold in 1737, and became the property of Thomas, fourth Duke of 
Leeds, one of whose principal seats, Kiveton, formed an ancient mem- 
ber of the Soke of Coningsburgh. Sir Walter Scott, in his exquisite 
romance of Ivanhoe, has thrown the halo of his genius over this cele- 
brated fortress : " There are," says the poet of the North, " few more 
beautiful or striking scenes in England, than are presented by the vici- 
nity of this ancient fortress. The soft and gentle river Don sweeps 
through an amphitheatre, in which cultivation is richly blended with 
woodland, and on a mount, ascending from the river, well defended by 
walls and ditches, rises this ancient edifice, which, as its Saxon name 
implies, was, previous to the Conquest, a royal residence of the Kings of 
England. The outer walls have probably been added by the Normans, 
but the inner keep bears token of very great antiquity. It is, situated on 
a mount at one angle of the inner court, and forms a complete circle of, 
perhaps, twenty-five feet in diameter. The wall is of immense thickness, 
and is propped or defended by six huge external buttresses, which project 
from the circle and rise up against the sides of the tower, as if to 
strengthen or to support it. These massive buttresses are hollowed out 
towards the top, and terminate in a sort of turrets, communicating with 
the interior of the keep itself. The distant appearance of this huge 
building, with these singular accompaniments, is as interesting to the 


lovers of the picturesque, as the interior of the castle is to the eager 
antiquary, whose imagination it carries back to the days of the Hep- 
tarchy. A burrow in the vicinity of the castle is pointed out as the tomb 
of the memorable Hengist : and various monuments of great antiquity 
and curiosity are shown in the neighbouring churchyard." 

We will conclude this brief description of Coningsburgh, and its 
famous castle, with the following poem, referential to its early history 
and tradition : 

ON Coningsburgh's donjon the watches were set, 

With the dew-drops of eve its proud banner was wet, 

The throstle sang loudly in Elfrida's bower, 

The wild harps sang sweetly in Hengist's high tower, 

As the golden-hair'd daughters of Saxony hung 

On the strain of the bards, who exultingly sung 

The deeds of renown that their warriors had done, 

The foes they had slaughter'd, the battles they'd won, 

Whilst those dark heroes smiled as the goblet they quaff 'd 

When the white hand of beauty presented the draught ; 

For bright to the chief is the blaze of his fame, 

And brighter when mingled with love's holy flame, 

And honour'd and bless' d for ever's the brow, 

That is twin'd with the laurel and love's lighter bough. 


As slowly the bard pour'd his descant of death, 

Or exulting he waken'd the trumpet's loud breath, 

In fancy the conqueror urged once more 

His steed o'er the field, with his fetlocks in gore, 

Dash'd the spur in his flank, gave his fury the rein, 

And the flying pursued o'er the heaps of the slain ! 

The minstrel observ'd him, as fiercely he sprung 

To the pillar on high where his bright falchion hung ; 

When changing his strain to a soul-soothing tone, 

He brought the fierce monarch again to his throne, 

While softly around him his queen threw her arm, 

And her loveliness hung on the chieftain's dark form, 

Like a beam of the sun on the skirts of a storm ; 

And her voice that could soothe and subdue him at will, 

Bade the storm of his bosom subside and be still. 


But why to the lip of each hero was held 

The wine-cup untasted ? the minstrelsy quell'd ? 

And why did each maid grasp her warrior's form, 

As her bosom beat high with a sudden alarm. 

Full loudly the horn of the warder did blow, 

And the watch-dog had scented afar oif the foe, 

While Hengist sprung up from his queen and his throne, 

To look out through the long narrow loop-hole of stone. 

Soft and sweet shone the beams of the sun in the vale, 

And the leaves scarcely stirr'd in the low-breathing gale, 

But the deer from her covert had started away, 

And the dewy-winged lark fled the spot where she lay, 

While the black raven hover'd aloft in his flight, 

And screain'd for the feast he expected that night, 


For in battle array, on the banks of the Don, 
A thousand bright helmets reflected the sun. 
" To arms ! " cried the monarch, exultingly springing, 
To meet the young page who his corslet was bringing ; 
" The foe's in the vale ! 'tis Ambrosius advances, 
I know by the banner that waves o'er the lances j 
Our swords must be flesh'd ere the set of the sun, 
And a battle be fought and a victory won ! " 


With the bright crested helmet each forehead was bound, 

Which but now with the garlands of beauty was crown' d, 

And the corslet of steel now encircled each breast, 

That the soft arm of woman so lately had press'd, 

And the trumpet's loud echoes were heard far away, 

As they rush'd o'er the drawbridge in battle array ; 

And while to the onset they thundered along, 

Like a stream from the mountain, as rapid and strong, 

The valley resounded through all its green glades 

With the neighing of steeds and the clashing of blades ; 

But, alas ! ere the morn had arisen that night, 

The band that had march'd in the pride of its might, 

In breathless confusion, in ruin, and rout, 

Were pursued by the foe with a conqueror's shout. 

'Twas in vain that they strove their strong castle to win, 

For the victor and vanquish'd together rush'd in, 

And the standard of Hengist, so proudly unfurl'd, 

From the station on high was indignantly hurl'd. 

Yet the beams of the morrow as sweetly arose, 

As if all in that valley were peace and repose, 

As if death and destruction were not in its towers, 

As if blood had not rain'd oa the leaves of its bowers, 

And as softly and lightly the breath of the breeze, 

As though 'twere a paradise, play'd with the trees ; 

Yet, alas ! in that valley sleeps many an eye, 

That shall ne'er look again on the warm sunny sky, 

And many a breast in its blood -stain' d mail, 

That shall never the breath of that sweet breeze inhale. 

But see ! from that dungeon, so gloomy and deep, 

That yawns in the midst of the castle's high keep, 

What form so majestic is slowly led forth, 

To the gate of the fortress that fronts to the north ? 

Whose arm, the last night the proud theme of the song, 

Like a felon's, behind him is bound by a thong, 

Whose diadem'd head, that ne'er stoop'd in its pride, 

To acknowledge an equal in mortal beside, 

Now bound and depress'd, is stretched out on the block, 

It is done ! the stern headsman has given the stroke. 

Had the sword of the warrior pierced his breast, 

The soul of the warrior then had known rest, 
With a look of disdain he had welcom'd the blow, 
And his eye smil'd in death on a worthier foe : 
Whilst now from his body, though headless it lay, 
All timidly shrank his assassins away, 
For the boldest confess'd it was fearful to see, 
A spirit that struggled like his to be free, 


To mark the wild tumult which swell'd in his breast, 

And the rage which the death- stroke had scarcely repress'd. 

Long ages have pass'd since that morning arose, 
When King Hengist submitted his head to his foes, 
Through Coningsburgh's vale flows the bright river still, 
And the donjon-tower yet crowns the wood-cover'd hill, 
And its dungeon is still yawning darkly below ; 

But the ivy alone is its green banner now ! 

And the wild roses bloom in its chambers of stone. 
Where the bright lights of beauty and bravery shone ; 
Its wide-circling walls and its high -flanking towers, 
Are mould'ring to dust 'neath its summer-green bovvers. 
In its grass-cover'd moat may young rustics be seen, 
To gather May blossoms to garland their queen, 
Who dream not, while round her those garlands they throw, 
That a King and a Warrior slumbers below. 

Ifrummonfc Cattle, co. $*rtf). 

" OF all the devoted adherents to the dynasty of the Stuarts" (we borrow 
from an eloquent writer) " none can claim a more distinguished rank 
than the house of Drummond. Their fidelity ran in their bluod, and 
was part of their nature, from the royal union of their exalted predeces- 
sor, to the last ruin of the hopes of her unfortunate descendants. For 
adhering to the martyr-king, Charles the First, a fine of 5000 was 
levied by Cromwell on the loyal Lord of Stobhall ; and what his suc- 
cessors endured in the same cause, generation after generation, for 
more than 100 years, is told in a series of chivalrous adventures and 
bravely-borne suffering, which do honour to human constancy, and re- 
flect undying lustre on the immovable truth and pure attachment of the 
men who thus risked all that could he dear, for what they held to be the 

The antiquity of the Drummonds is carried so far back that their 
origin is lost in the dim scenes of .Scottish story j but, without enter- 
ing on .the doubtful path of early tradition, they may well rest satisfied 
with an unbroken descent of full 600 years, which in personal distinction 
yields to few in the annals of North Britain. The lords of Drummond 
occur in all the public archives of their time, and when we inquire what 
events and what names have given them celebrity, the answer refers us 
to no private records, but to the courts and camps of the English and 
Scottish monarchs. Their ancient and splendid residence, Drummond 
Castle, associated with their deeds and their greatness, is one of the 
finest mansions in Scotland. It stands in the barony of Concraig, which 
was acquired from the Drummonds of that place by John, the first lord, 
and is placed on a high and, to one side, nearly perpendicular rock, at 
the foot of the hill of Torlum, surrounded by a magnificent park, of 
striking and diversified scenery extending full two miles in every 
direction. The entrance is by the old arched gateway or keep, which 
now serves as an armoury, and the approach to the castle, by a court, of 
more recent date than the old part of the structure. Here the full 
beauty of the situation of the hall of the Drummonds suddenly burst 


246 KENNET. 

upon the sight ; the vale of Strathern, with its undulating streams, and 
its picturesque landscape, the rich verdure, the stately oaks, and the 
placid waters of an artificial lake, with the matchless flower-gardens of 
Lady Willoughby, render the spot almost fairy land. An old esplanade, 
formed close to the ancient part of the castle, communicates with 
two lower terraces, one of venerable yews and the other of beautiful 

The original .structure, erected by John, first Lord Drummond, in 
1490, must have been of very great extent, for we find, in addition to 
the section still inhabited, evident remains of much more considerable 
buildings. Two hundred years ago Drummond Castle, held as a royal 
fortress by the gallant Drummond of the civil wars, withstood a siege 
by Cromwell ; and in a century after, during the memorable '45, the 
same chivalrous and loyal devotion defended it as a garrison, for the 
cause of Prince Charles. In our own day, too, Drummond Castle has 
its royal associations. When Queen Victoria visited for the first time 
her fair realm of Scotland, Her Majesty was entertained by the present 
noble possessors of this historic seat the Lord Willoughby de Eresby 
and his consort, the representative and heiress of the loyal house of 

lUunet, co. Clacfunanan. 

IN the county of Clackmanan, within a short distance of the remains of 
the ancient castle, so long the feudal residence of the chief line of the 
Bruces, stands the present mansion of Kennet, situated amid pleasure- 
gardens and plantations of great beauty, on a rising ground overlooking 
the basin of the Forth. It is a handsome edifice, built by Robert Bruce, 
an eminent lawyer, appointed in 1764 one of the senators of the College 
of Justice, under the title of Lord Kennet, and ranks high among the 
modern mansions of Scotland. Internally great elegance has been dis- 
played, and some valuable family pictures adorn the walls. 

The lands of Kennet, together with the Castle and Barony of Clack- 
manan, were first granted by King David Bruce, in a charter bearing 
date 1359, to Robert Bruce, whom the King therein styles "his beloved 
cousin and kinsman." This Robert Bruce was the grandson of Sir John 
de Bruce, second brother of Robert de Bruce, Lord of Annandale and 
Earl of Carrick, father of King Robert Bruce, the glorious restorer of 
Scottish freedom, who derived his descent in the male line from a noble 
Norman knight, who fought at the Battle of Hastings in 1066, and was 
nearly related to the Conqueror. He died in 1393, leaving several sons, 
of whom Sir Robert Bruce, the eldest, was his heir, and James became 
Lord Chancellor of Scotland and Archbishop of Glasgow. Sir Robert 
Bruce died at Clackmanan in 1455, and was succeeded by his eldest son, 
Sir David Bruce, whose descendants continued to reside at the old castle, 
still in existence, until 1772, when the line failed in Henry Bruce, Esq., 
and the representation vested in the Earl of Elgin. ROBERT BRUCE, Lord 
Kennet, was descended from David, third son of Sir David Bruce, of 
Clackmanan, whose son Archibald married his kinswoman, Margaret, 
daughter and heiress of Robert Bruce, Esq., of Kennet, representative of 
that branch of the family who were descended of a younger, son of the 
first Laird of Clackmanan, and had a charter of these lands from his 


father, 1389. Lord Kennet's grandson. ROBERT BRUCE, Esq., is the 
present representative of the Kennet branch of the illustrious house of 
Bruce of Annandale, and the inheritor of their broad lands. He for- 
merly sat in Parliament for the county, and in early life served as captain 
in the Grenadier Guards, with that distinguished regiment in the Penin- 
sula and at Waterloo. 

Jioruraiie ;Pavfc, to- Cork, 

There the most daintie paradise on ground, 

Itselfe doth offer to the sober eye, 

In which all pleasures plenteously abownd, 

And none does others happinesse envye, 

The painted flowers ; the trees upshooting hye ; 

The dales for shade ; the christall running by ; 

And that which all fair works doth most aggrace, 

The art which all that wrought appeared in no place. 

THUS sung Edmund Spenser, looking on this "faire countrie," above 
two centuries and a half ago ; and such terms are aptly suited to describe 
it now. Strange, that two hundred and fifty-eight years should have 
rolled into eternity, producing so many changes in the social condition of 
mankind the institution of states, their forms of government, the habits 
and pursuits of the dwellers of the earth, and yet the features of the 
earth are unchanged ! The mountains still stand sublime, the river flows 
in its accustomed channel, trees put forth their verdure and flowers their 
sweet odours, for they obey a law that is of God fixed, immutable, un- 
varied. Seasons change in their turn ; the rain falls, the winds blow, 
but the earth is the same. Created by the Divine Architect, he alone 
has power to cause an alteration. 

There are some exquisite sylvan views in Doneraile Park. The river 
Awbrey Spenser's Mulla winds its silvery way through the extensive 
grounds. The scenery is varied by gently swelling knolls, green and 
close shorn ; while wide-spread meadowy niches by the river side give 
promise of an abundant hay-harvest. The house is a fine commodious 
mansion, owing much to the beauty of the site. It crowns the summit 
of a hill sloping to the waters of the Mulla. Adjoining the mansion are 
conservatories, stored with the choicest exotics. The stream is spanned 
by several rustic bridges, which have a beautiful picturesque effect. 
These grounds bear token of having shared the fury of the tempest in 
January, 1838, on which occasion, the storm did considerable damage 
among the grown timber ; breaking branches, snapping stems, and up- 
rooting some of the oldest trees. Several gaps mark the power of the 
wind on that eventful night. 

While rambling beneath the shade of the fine old trees, we mused on 
the great men who here sought relaxation from the turmoil of courts 
and camps; and never did the veteran statesman, tired by a long life of 
court intrigues, or factious interests, fly for repose and quietude to a 

T 2 


sweeter haven, where, in contemplating the frivolities of the past, he 
might prepare for the solemnity of the future. 

The family of Lord Doneraile St. Leger is of great antiquity in 
Ireland; and its members have filled the highest^ offices in the Irish 
Government. The first of the family of whom we find mention, Sir 
Anthony Sentleger, A.D. 1540, was Lord Deputy of Ireland, Knight of 
the Garter, and Privy Councillor. He assembled a Parliament at Dublin, 
33rd Henry VIII., which changed the royal style and title from Lord to 
King of Ireland, and his manners and address were so winning, that 
many of the disaffected Irish chieftains made their submission to the 
English rule. In Mr. O'Flanaghan's " Origin and Progress of the English 
Law in Ireland," he thus notices this exemplary Governor : " Sent Leger 
was a very politic man. He determined to adopt a different course 
from his predecessors in office j and, instead of seeking to exterminate 
the Irish, or breaking truce with them, to conciliate and protect them, 
as fellow subjects. The effect was magical on the Irish chieftains, their 
hearts were softened by kindly treatment, the reverse of that they had 
formerly experienced ; and, if it had not been for causes which speedily 
infused poison into the cup of joy, peace, civilization, and national 
prosperity would have marked the wisdom of Sent Leger's govern- 

The son and grandson of this enlightened man, successively filled the 
office of Lord President of Minister ; the latter of whom had a magni- 
ficent Presidency Court at Doneraile, and built the parish church, as 
appears from the following inscription in black marble over the east 
door : 

" This Church was first built by the Right Hon. Sir William St. Leger, 
then Lord President of Munster, Ann. Dom. 1633, and afterwards was 
rebuilt by the Right Hon. Arthur, Lord Viscount Doneraile, Ann. Dom. 

The family of St. Leger were raised to the Peerage in 1 703, and this 
branch of the family gave four possessors to the title, but having expired 
in 1767, the present race became ennobled by the creation of Baron 
Doneraile, of the Peerage of Ireland, 1776; advanced to Viscount in 
1785. The present Lord was born in 1786, and succeeded his father 
in 181Q. He was elected a representative Peer for Ireland in 1830. 

Caf)*r $fou$*, co 


" Towers and battlements it sees, 
Bosomed high in tufted trees." 

ALTHOUGH the mail-coach passenger, whirling through the town of 
Caher, may not consider there is anything peculiarly attractive in the 
long range of ordinary building, which, he is informed, is " the Lord's 
house," to entitle it to a place in our picturesque Castles and Mansions, 
we beg leave to lead him to the front, as the town side is the rear of 


the edifice, and ere long he will correct his mistake. Before him 
spreads the Suir, 

" The gentle Suir, that majking way 
By sweet Clonmell, adorns rich Waterford." 

A spacious domain spreads for two miles in front of Caher House, em- 
bracing both sides of the river, and affording a variety of exquisite 
scenery. The visitor will feel greatly pleased with the taste displayed in 
laying out the demesne, and the pretty cottage in the secluded dell, so 
generously given for the use of pic-nic parties by the noble owner. The 
scenery is bold and romantic. The river is a fine deep stream, gliding 
through a rich and fertile land. It conies flowing and gushing from the 
Shains of Cashel and Holy Cross, and the castled steep of Ardfinnan. On 
its high and beautiful banks have events taken place, that stand promi- 
nent in the Annals of Ireland. Its waters, in days of old, floated to the 
beach of Waterford the English ships bearing the allies of MacMurrough, 
to seize Ireland as the reward of their adventurous valour. At Cashel 
was the Synod assembled that adopted the English rule 

" When the emerald gem of the western world, 
Was set in the crown of the stranger." 

It glides past the ruins of lordly hall and hallowed fane, and the waves 
were red with the tide of war where now the busy mills with their cease- 
less wheels disturb the placid water. Caher House is a spacious weJl- 
built mansion, and contains numerous rooms of elegant proportions. 
The ancient Castle of Caher is close to the lawn, and of great antiquity. 
It is of singular appearance but considerable extent, and is built on an 
island, having the river flowing round. It consists of a square keep, 
with an outer and inner ballium, a small court-yard lying between. 
There are seven towers flanking the outworks ; of these four are circular 
and three square. Some few years ago, the entire castle was put in 
complete repair by Lord Glengall, who caused particular attention to be 
paid to the style of the building, so that uniformity with the old founda- 
tion might be preserved j and never was a restoration more successful, 
for the new portion harmonizes exactly with the original structure. 

Caher Castle has had its share of blows in the various conflicts that 
have agitated this land. In Elizabeth's reign, A.D. 1599, the Earl of 
Essex besieged it with his whole army, when the garrison, encouraged 
by the hostilities to which the English army were exposed from the 
attacks of the Earl of Desmond, and, doubtless, incited by the want of 
military skill in the general of the besieging army, held out for a consi- 
derable time, but at last was compelled to surrender. Again, in 1617, 
the trumpet of war called the inmates to the walls. It was then invested 
by Lord Inchiquin, who, unlike his predecessor in attacking-, gave the 
garrison nothing to hope for from supineness ; but proceeded to storm 
at once, took the outworks by assault, on which the Castle was speedily 
surrendered. The dread of a still more formidable enemy than ever ap- 
peared before the walls, banished even a show of resistance, when on 
the 24th February, 1649, a note thus directed, and in the following- 
terms, was received in the Castle. 


For the Governor of Caher Castle. These. 

SIR, Before Caher, 24th February, 1649. 

Having brought the Army and my Cannon near this place, according 
to my usual manner in summoning places, I thought fit to offer you 
Terms honorable for soldiers. That you may march away with your 
baggage, arms, and colours, free from injury or violence. But if I be 
necessitated to bend my cannon upon you, you must expect the extre- 
mity usual in such cases. To avoid blood this is offered you by 

Your servant, 


The terror of Cromwell's name was so great, that the garrison 
instantly evacuated the fortress. The Parliamentary leader seemed 
proud of his success, for he instantly wrote a dispatch to England 
announcing it. 

To Hon. John Bradshaw, Esq., President of the Council of State. These. 

SIR, Cashel, 5th March, 1649. 

It pleaseth God still to enlarge your interest here. The Castle of 
Caher, very considerable built upon a rock, and seated on an island 
placed in the midst of the Suir, was lately surrendered to me. It cost 
the Earl of Essex, as 1 am informed, about 8 weeks' siege with his 
army and artillery. It is now yours without the loss of a man. 

The family of Butler, Earls of Glengall, are a branch of the great 
House of Ormond, tracing descent from the third Earl. They claim 
their title of nobility far back j the Butlers having been Barons Caher 
since Queen Elizabeth's reign, anno 1583, of the Irish peerage. The 
Earldom is recent, 1816. The present is the second Earl ; he succeeded 
his father in 1819, and was elected a representative peer in 1830. 



AT this moment when, if ever, Italy seems likely, headed by a wise and 
benevolent Pontiff, to vindicate in the scale of nations, a position suit- 
able to her antique fame and her central position in the world of civili- 
zation and commerce, it is still curious to remark, how true she con- 
tinues to the two great sentiments that have swayed her frame to and fro 
during the last five centuries of her existence, Ghibellinism and Guelfism. 
In our apprehension, it matters little whether a native or a foreign, a 
military, a civil, or a spiritual prince controls the political destinies of 
Italy, so long as she has secured to her national institutions, in accord- 
ance with the progress of human intelligence, and the civilization of the 
present day. 

Napoleon said, that he asked twenty years to make Italy a nation, a 
remark, no doubt, implying that it was to rise from its ashes in a new 
birth ; that it was the coming, and not the existing generation j 
future, and not past education, to which he would look for the ele- 
ments of national regeneration, and the hopes of future prosperity. 
That potent spirit that swept over the world, entailing ruin and de- 
struction in his progress, but cleansing and purifying the political and 
social atmosphere, past away, nor survived to see, except in fancy, the 
consequences of his own acts. The seed that he had sown was destined 
to germinate in its fitting season, and whether that season has arrived, 
the events of the next score of years must determine. 

The name of the sovereign Poet of Italy suggested the thoughts to 
which we have just given way, for who more than Dante had the cause 
of national regeneration at heart ? Who better than he saw the peculiar 
evils to which Italy was then a prey ? Who more than he deplored her 
fall from her ancient pre-eminence, her sacrifice of great and noble 
to paltry and selfish interests ? 

" Dante (says a writer in an Italian periodical, cited by Mr. Mazzinghi) 
sought to realize in Italy, a unity of civil and military force, and let the 
Italian who thinks not with him upon this point, after having had before 
his eyes that most fearful experiment of the five subsequent centuries, 
cast the first stone at him." 

" O wretched, wretched country," writes Dante, in one of his treatises 
(Convito, Trattato iv. c. 28) "how irresistibly I am impelled to commis- 
serate thy condition, whenever I read or write anything pertaining to 
civil government." 

We confess that we have for some time regarded the enthusiasm of 
Italians of all classes for their philosophical Poet, as one of the most 
promising features of the national sentiment. And if as every Italian 
has felt, and Guizot (Discourse on Civilization) has expressed, Italy re- 
sembles a beautiful flower, which some rude grasp prevents from ex- 
panding, and if he have, even in his Quixotic anticipations, somewhat 
realized the epigrammatic saying of De Stael f, and mistaken memories 

* A brief Notice of some recent Researches respecting Dante Alighieri, by Thomas 
John Mazzinghi, M.A. 

t " Us ont pris les souvenirs pour les esperances." 


of the past for prophecies of the future, still enough remains in the 
womb of time, awaiting only, it may be, the obstetric aid of prudent 
patriotism, to mature into a blooming promise of national prosperity. 
With a country blessed with havens of great capacity, an extensive sea- 
board, and a position in the very centre of the world's converse, what 
but the " rude grasp" of foreign violence has prevented her from 
growing into a great and influential European power? What has she 
hitherto been but war's playground, a theatre on which the madness of 
Austrian, or Gallic ambition, has strutted its little hour upon the stage ? 

But the subject with which we have to do is rather family than na- 
tional, antiquarian than historical, literary than political. We propose 
to consider some curious features of Italian civilization, as connected 
with the annals of the family of the greatest Poet of Italy. 

Hume, in commenting upon a household book of an Earl of North- 
umberland, temp. Henry VII., containing the items of expenditure 
which he sanctioned in his house, than which no baron's was on a nobler 
or more splendid footing, alludes to the rudeness of manners and gross 
want of polish and refinement which the whole scheme indicated. And 
he adds, " If we consider the magnificent and elegant manner in which 
the Venetian and other Italian noblemen then lived, with the progress 
made by the Italians in literature and the fine arts, we shall not wonder 
that they considered the ultramontane nations as barbarous." Senti- 
ments are, however, an even less fallible indication of progress in civili- 
zation than manners. And where in England, or elsewhere in the 
world than in Italy, shall we, during the thirteenth or fourteenth cen- 
tury (the date of the composition is not critically fixed), find a juster de- 
finition of the constituent characteristics of a " gentleman/' * than in 
the following description : 

" The soul that this celestial grace adorns, 
In secret hides it not, 
But soon as to its earthly mate espoused, 
Displays it, until death : 
Gentle, obedient, alive to shame, 
In early age is seen'; 
Careful the frame in beauty to improve, 

And all accomplishments. 

Temperate and bold, in youthful years, and full 

Of love and courtesy, and thirst of fame, 

Placing in loyalty its sole delight ; 

Then in old age wins praise 

For prudence, justice, liberality ; 

And in itself enjoys 

To hear and talk of others' valorous deeds.f 

Last in the fourth and closing scene of life, 

To God is re-espoused, 

Contemplating the end which is at hand, 

And thanks returning for departed years ;. 

Reflect now how the many are deceived." J 

That Dante was " gentle," in this, the highest sense of the word, will 

* So should be translated the word " nobile," so often confounded with the English 
word " noble," to which quite a different sense is by us attached. 

t This, says Mr. Mazzinghi, is a generous but not a faithful translation of the line. 

" D' udire e ragionar delP altrui prode." 
J Dante's Canzoniere, translation of Mr. Lyell, p. 117> 


be doubted by none who are conversant with the incidents of his life, or 
the nobility of thought that breathes throughout his writings j that he 
was " gentle/' in the popular signification of the term, is apparent from 
other sources. 

In the history of Florentine families, a singular feature presents itself - 3 
by a practice peculiar to Italy, nay, we believe to Florence, families, 
under certain circumstances, were compelled to change their arms and 
their surnames, the origin of which was as follows. After having long 
suffered the insolent factions of the great families to convulse the state, 
the middle classes, headed indeed by one of the nobles, by a determined 
movement obtained the mastery. To organize their newly-acquired 
power, they instituted an office, the chief at Florence during the repub- 
lican era, that of Gonfalonier of Justice; they formed a species of national 
guard from the whole body of the citizens, who were again subdivided 
into companies, under the command of other officers of inferior dignity, 
also styled Gonfaloniers (Bannerets). As soon, and frequently did this 
occur, did any noble commit violence within the walls of the city, 
which was likely to compromise the public peace, or disturb the quiet 
of the state,Jwhen the great bell at the Palazzo Vecchio raised its alarum, 
the population flew to arms, and hastened to the spot, where the Gonfalo- 
nier of Justice speedily found himself in a position, not merely to put an 
end to the disturbance, but even to lay siege to the stout massive fortresses 
which formed the city residences of the insolent and refractious offen- 
ders to which they then withdrew. But the reforming party did not stop 
there ; by the new constitution, which was then introduced, " the ancient 
noble families, termed by contemporary historians ' i grandi,' and ex- 
plained to include those only which had ever been illustrated by the order 
of Knighthood, were all placed under a severe system of civil restrictions 
and their names were entered upon a roll called the Ordinances of Justice j 
the immediate effect was that losing all political rights, they were 
placed in a most disadvantageous position before the law. Their situa- 
tion has been aptly compared to that of the Irish Catholics under the 
full severity of the penal code,* and the same necessity may be regarded 
with equal reason, perhaps, as palliating the original harshness of each 

By a somewhat amusing species of democratic liberality, a man or a 
family might be emancipated from this position and rendered fit for 
office, born again as it were into a new political life, by renouncing their 
connections (consorteria) and changing their arms and surnames. They 
were then said to be made plebeian or popular (fatti di popolo). Niebhur 
has noticed the analogy of such voluntary resignation of nobility to the 
" transitio ad plebem" of the Romans. 

This practice of changing arms and surnames originated from the Ordi- 
nances of Justice promulgated about that time, which expressly requires 
this as a condition to the enjoyment by any of the old families of 
popular rights. It gave rise to great varieties of surnames and armorial 
bearings in different branches of the same house. But it has neverthe- 
less been noted that in all these mutations it was still the endeavour of 
the parties to retain as much as possible of the ancient ensigns and ap- 
pellations, so that traces of descent and connexion might not in the 
progress of years be altogether obliterated. Thus the Cavalcanti took 

* Bowyer's Statutes of Italy, p. 39. 


the name of Cavallereschi, the Tornaquinci that of Tornabuoni. Some- 
times they obtained the object by a play upon the name itself thus j 
at other times by making a patronymic of the Christian name of the 
first or some other favourite ancestor j thus a branch of the Bardi assumed 
the name of Gualterotti, and a branch of the Pazzi that of Accorri. 
Sometimes they took their new name from a place or circumstance 
calculated to preserve the memory of their origin ; thus the Agolanti 
designated themselves Fiesolani, the Bostichi from the antiquity of their 
stock, Buonantichi. In mutation of arms a similar object was borne in 
mind. Thus the Buondelmonti simply added to their ancient bearings 
a mountain az. and a cross gu. The Baccelli, who were a branch of 
the Mazzinghi, replaced the three perpendicular clubs, the ancient ensigns 
of the family, by two placed in the form of a cross. 
J As the object of these provisions was to discriminate for the future those 
of the ancient families who had acceded to the principles of the popu- 
lar institutions from their more haughty kindred, (the Protectionists of 
their day) who remained true to the defence of their feudal and aristo- 
cratical prejudices, the change either of arms or surname was not 
required if the whole family became converts to the new doctrines : for 
then there was no need of discrimination, and the law was not framed 
out of any dislike merely to particular ensigns but only to the principles 
and opinions which they had up to a certain time been understood to re- 

Notwithstanding one passage in the Convito, it would appear that the 
Poet was powerfully impressed with the feeling for antiquity so common 
to his age and country, but purified in his great mind from all those 
grosser ideas and vanities that detract from the real worth of the senti- 
ment, and give it rather the character of a weak and indefensible preju- 
dice. And accordingly we find him in the Paradiso thus apostrophizing 

" Ben ssi tu manto che tosto raccorce, 
Si che, se non s'appon di die in die, 
Lo tempo va dintorno con le force." Canto xvi. 6. 

" Yet cloak thou art soon shorten'd : for that Time, 
Unless thou be eked out from day to day, 
Goes round thee with his shears." CAREY. 

The frailty of things human, of family honors amongst them, escapes 
not the comment of the Poet. 

" Mark Luni ; Urbisaglia mark ; 
How they are gone ; and after them how go 
Chiusi and Sinigaglia ; and 'twill seem 
No longer new or strange to thee, to hear 
That families fail, when cities have their end. 
All things that appertain to ye, like yourselves, 
Are mortal, but mortality in some 
Ye mark not ; they endure so long and you 
Pass by so suddenly. And as the moon 
Doth, by the rolling of her heavenly sphere 
Hide and reveal the strand unceasingly ; 
So fortune deals with Florence. Hence admire not 
At what of them I tell thee, whose renown 
Time covers, the first Florentines." CAREY. 


In one of the most celebrated passages in the Inferno, the Poet Dante 
describes his encounter with a chief of the Uberti, hereditary enemies of 
his own house. Within his fiery tomb that was to remain unclosed until 
the last day, in the sixth circle of the Inferno (that of the " Increduli") 
was imprisoned the Ghibellin chieftain, the Coriolanus of Florentine His- 
tory, Farinata degl' Uberti, to whom the Poet, with strict justice, awards 
the praise of highmindedness, designating him as " quel magnanimo." 

" Lo ! Farinata there, who hath himself 
Uplifted ; from his girdle upwards, all 
Exposed, behold him. On his face was mine 
Already fix'd ; his breast and forehead there 
Erecting, seem'd as in high scorn he held 

E'en hell. 

He, soon as there I stood at the tomb's foot, 

Ey d me, a space ; then in disdainful mood 

Addressed me : " Say what ancestors where thine." 

I, willing to obey him, straight reveal'd 

The whole, nor kept back aught : whence he his brow 

Somewhat uplifting, cried : " Fiercely were they 

Adverse to me, my party and the blood 

From whence I sprang : twice therefore, I abroad 

Scatter'd them." " Though driven out, yet they each time 

From all parts," answered I, ' * returned ; an act 

Which yours have shown they are not skilled to learn." 

And here the dialogue is interrupted by an episode which has always 
been admired as a striking instance of the consummate art of the Poet j it 
involves however many allusions for which we have no space. We there- 
fore^pass it by. 

" Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whom 
I yet was station'd, chang'd not count' nance stern, 
Nor mov'd the neck, nor bent his ribbed side. 
, " And if," continuing the first discourse, 
" They in this art," he cried, ' ( small skill have shown : 
That doth torment me more e'en than this bed. 
But not yet fifty times shall be relumed 
Her aspect, who reigns here, queen of this realm, 
Ere thou shalt know the full weight of that art." 

Inferno x. Carey. 

From the conversation between Dante and his ancestor Cacciaguida 
in Paradise is derived, although not exclusively, the information that 
has been handed down respecting the earlier descents of his family. 
It ascends by well authenticated^ documents by historical evidence, 
and municipal records, to a remote period in the middle ages. Ac- 
cording to some, the Alighieri were originally descended from that 
patriotic house of Rome which derived its surname, according to tradi- 
tion, from having at a time of great dearth and scarcity made a 
bountiful use of its opulence, to relieve the cravings of the necessi- 
tous. They broke their bread with the people, and became thenceforth 
the " Bread breakers," (Frangipani) in the nomenclature of a grateful 
people. Certain however it is that the Florentine family of the Alighieri 
were at a very early date divided into the kindred houses of the Alighieri 


and the Elisei j* the latter became soon extinct, but not before it, as 
well as the collateral branch, had filled the highest offices in Florence, 
which its singular constitution enabled it to bestow. In the civil dis- 
sensions which prevailed in their country during the 12th and 13th 
century, the two would appear to have embraced opposite sides. The 
Lisei (Elisei) alone are mentioned by Malespina (the earliest Florentine 
Historians) and these may therefore be regarded as having at that early 
period been the more prosperous and powerful branch. They espoused 
the Ghibellin their kinsman, the Alighieri, the Guelf cause. The poet 
himself was the first of his own family, who, in attaching himself to the 
cause of the Empire, became at the commencement perhaps almost invo- 
luntarily confounded with the advocates of doctrines and principles at that 
time and long subsequently classed under the general term Ghibellinism. 
A writer in a modern review, generally regarded as one of the heads of 
the party styled " Italia Giovane," has claimed for Dante the credit of 
being neither " Guelf nor Ghibellin, but Italian ;" and certainly if we are to 
judge from his great Poem alone, and set out of consideration the 
commentary supplied by the incidents in his own political career, we 
should hesitate to class him with any but the party strong at that period 
in nothing but the merits of their cause the true patriots who had 
the interests of their country at heart and who postponed to it all selfish 

" The few, the band of brothers." 

And accordingly we find the poet dealing out the dishonours and honors 
of his Hell, Purgatory and Paradise to Popes and Emperors, Guelfs and 
Ghibellins with the most impartial neutrality. The first progenitor 
of Dante whose Christian name is known was CacciaguSda, and he tells 
us that his son was Dante's great grandfather (bisavo). Cacciaguida thus 
greets the Poet in Paradise (c. xv.) 

O fronda mia, in che io compiacemmi 
Pure aspettando, io fui la tuaradice. 

" I am thy root, O leaf, whom to expect 
Even, hath pleased me." Carey. 

Cacciaguida was knighted by the Emperor Conrad III., he married 
Aldighiera degl' Aldighieri of Ferrara, whence, he tells his descendant, 
came the surname of the family (by a slight alteration.) 

" E quhidi '1 soprannome tuo si feo." Parad. xv. 138. 

He died in the Crusade 1147, leaving two sons, of whom one, 
Aldighiero, mentioned by Dante (Parad. xv.) and^namedwith his brother 

in a document A.D. 1 189, was the father of 

Bellincione or Cacciaguida, who lived 1200 circiter. and had a son, 
Aldighiero, a jurisconsult of the Guelf party, who was twice banished 

from Florence in 1248 and 1260. (Parad xv.) He died about 1270, 

* The arms of the Elisei were Chequered Lozengy az. and or. The arms of 
the Alighieri were Party per pale az. and gules. The arms of the Frangipani, Party 
per bend az. and gules. This similarity of bearings was one ground why the two last 
families were supposed to have sprung from a common ancestor : slender proof, says 
fiorghini, if nothing else confirmed the conclusion 1 


leaving by his second wife Bella several children, of whom one was the 
Poet Dante born at Florence 8th May, 1265, died at Ravenna in exile, 
14th Sept. 1321. 

" Ungrateful Florence, Dante sleeps afar." BYRON. 

He married Gemma Donati of a very ancient family, at that period 
the most powerful at Florence ; its head, Corso Donati, a noble endowed 
with extraordinary qualities and abilities, aspired to a tyranny but came 
to a violent end. By his wife Gemma (with respect to whose character dis- 
tinguished literati have been divided in opinion), Dante left many 
children $ his son Jacopo was the presumed author of a Commentary 
upon the Divine Comedy published at Milan 1475. Another son of the 
Poet was 

Pietro, who having shared his father's banishment, settled after his 
death at Verona, and was appointed Giudice by that Commune. He died 
atTreves 1361, and was buried with considerable honours in the cloister 
of the monastery St. Margerita. He also wrote a Commentary on his 
father's poems. By his wife Jacopa he left a son, 

Dante II., who died 1428, leaving a son, 

Leonardo (whose name has been preserved from oblivion by his inti* 
macy with Leonardo Aretino). He had a son, 

Pietro, friend of Filelfo and father of 

Dante III., who was Podesta (magistrate) of Peschiera 1498, where 
he subsequently filled other offices. He retired from Verona to Mantua, 
where he is said to have died of despair. Many Latin and Italian com- 
positions of his remain unedited. His son, 

Francesco, was the author of several antiquarian works, some of 
which have been printed and others are lost : His will was dated 1558. 

Francesco was the last male descendant of Dante, but he had a bro- 
ther Pietro, through whose daughter Ginevra the blood representation 
descended to the Counts Sarego of Verona, a family still extant and glory- 
ing in their connexion with the greatest Italian Poet. 




RALPH OSBORNE, Esq., the newly elected Knight of the shire for Middle- 
sex, is eldest son of Ralph Bernal, Esq., M.P., for Rochester, late 
chairman of the Committees of Ways and Means. He was born in 
1811, and married in 1844, Catherine Isabella, the only daughter and 
richly portioned heiress of the late Sir Thomas Osborne, Bart., of New- 
town Anner. On that occasion he came into possession of very con- 
siderable estates in the counties of Tipperary and Waterford, estimated 
at seven thousand a year, and he adopted, by Royal license, the surname 
and arms of his wife's family 3 he had previously held a Captain's Com- 
mission in the Army, and was Aid-de-camp to the Lord-Lieutenant of 
Ireland. In the last parliament he sat as representative for the borough 
of Wycombe, and distinguished himself on various questions as a spirited 
public speaker. 

NORTH DURHAM has returned two new members, LORD SEAHAM and 
ROBERT DUNCOMBE SHAFTO, Esq., of Whitworth Park ; the former, the 
eldest son of the Marquess of Londonderry, by Frances Anne, his second 
wife, only daughter and heiress of the late Sir Harry Vane Tempest, 
Bart., will succeed at the death of his father to the Earldom of Vane, 
and inherit through his mother the princely possessions of the Vanes and 
the Tempests, in the county which his lordship represents. His elder and 
half-brother is of course heir apparent to the Marquessate of Londonderry. 
LordSeaham has completed his twenty- fifth year, and was recently married 
to the only daughter and heiress of Sir John Edwards, Bart., of Garth. 
Mr. Duncombe Shafto is eldest son of Robert Eden Duncombe 
Shafto, Esq., of Whitworth, and descends from a family of great anti- 
quity in the North of England. Some little incidental proof of the 
rank which the old lords of Shafto held on the border may be gathered 
from song and tradition. At the "Raid of the Redswire" in 1575 
a hostile meeting between the Scotch and English wardens, one of the 
war cries of the latter was " a Schaftan and a Fenwick." The Scots 
had the honour of the day, and amongst the many English who were 
taken prisoners or wounded, 

" Young Henry Shaftan he is hurt, 
A souldier shot him with a bow." 

Since the accession of the House of Hanover, the chiefs of the family 
of Shafto have sat in parliament, representing either the county or city 
of Durham. 

VISCOUNT BRACKLEY, the successful candidate of North Staffordshire, 
is the eldest son of the Earl of Ellesmere, hitherto known as Lord 
Francis Egerton, and bears by courtesy the title which was conferred on 
his illustrious ancestor, the Lord Chancellor Egerton, just before his de- 
cease. The influence of his lordship's uncle, the Duke of Sutherland, 
is all paramount in Staffordshire. Lord Brackley was born in 1823, and 


married in 1846, Lady Mary Louisa Campbell, daughter of Earl 

The city of York has returned JOHN GEORGE SMYTH, Esq., of Heath 
Hall, near Wakefield, a landed proprietor of high station and large 
fortune in the West Riding. He is son of the late John Henry Smyth, 
Esq., of Heath Hall, M.P. for the University of Cambridge, nephew 
maternally of the present Duke of Grafton, and grandson of the Right 
Hon. John Smyth, Master of the Mint in the reign of George III. The 
new member for York was born in 1815, and married in 183o the fifth 
daughter of the late Lord Macdonald. 

MARMADUKE WYVILL, Esq., of Constable Burton, represents another 
Yorkshire constituency, the borough of Richmond, and was formerly 
twice member for the city of York. He is a scion of the distin- 
guished family of Wyvill, the name of whose patriarch appears on the 
Roll of Battle Abbey, and he would be entitled to the dignity of a Baronet 
if the vexata questio were decided in the affirmative, that an alien loses 
his right of inheritance to an English honour. 

W. J. Fox, the Chartist member for Oldham, was born on the 1st 
March, 1786, in a farm house near Wrentham, in Suffolk, and at the age 
of twelve, earned his livelihood as a weaver boy at Norwich. At fourteen, 
the loom was exchanged for the banker's desk, and in this employment he 
passed the next six years, during which time he carried on assiduously 
the work of self-education, and mastered a tolerably extensive range of 
learning, which enabled him, within a short time, to enter on the 
ministry of the Gospel, and to issue forth as a teacher of the people. 
Sometime after he separated from the religious body among whom he 
had been bred, the Calvinistic Independents, and became the pastor of 
an Unitarian Congregation at Chichester, whence he removed to London 
in 1817) and has from that time remained in the metropolis connected 
with Finsbury Chapel. He has been an occasional contributor to the 
Westminster Review, and was the writer of the numerous letters in the 
League newspaper, signed " a Norwich weaver boy." The other 
leader of the Chartists in the new parliament, Mr. FERGUS O'CONNOR, 
is by birth an Irishman of respectable descent, and inherited a small 
patrimonial estate in the county of Cork. His uncle, the celebrated 
Arthur O'Connor was heir at law to the late Lord Longueville, but his 
lordship not approving of the line of politics adopted by Mr. O'Connor, 
bequeathed his property to more distant relations eventually Arthur 
O'Connor entered the French service, and attaining high military rank 
was well known as General Condorcet O'Connor. Mr. Fergus O'Con- 
nor has long been before the public as editor of the Northern Star, 
and suffered incarceration a few years since in York gaol for sedition. 

MATTHEW WILSON,ESCJ. the new whigMember for Clitheroe, is eldest son 
of Matthew Wilson, Esq. of Eshton Hall, county York, and half-brother 
ofthe great heiress Miss Richardson Currer of Byerley and Kildwick. He 
is a magistrate for the West Riding of Yorkshire, and for Lancashire. 
His wife was the only daughter and heiress of Sir Warton Amcotts, Bart, 
of Kettlethorpe, twenty years M.P. for East Retford. 

The Knight of the shire for the Northern division of Northampton, 
so distinguished in the late parliament as Mr. STAFFORD O'BRIEN, has 
since his re-election, adopted by sign manual the surname of STAFFORD 
only, the cognomen of the ancient family through which he derives his 
Northamptonshire estate of Blatherwycke. The Hon. gentleman pos- 


sesses besides extensive property in the county of Clare in Ireland. He 
is the eldest son of Stafford O'Brien, Esq., and nephew maternally of the 
present Earl of Gainsborough. 

DAVID URQUHART, Esq., elected for Stafford, is the distinguished 
writer on the foreign policy of England, and possesses mental quali- 
fications of the highest order. Having now an arena for his great 
oratorical powers, the honourable member will, we feel assured, rank high 
among the public speakers of the day. He is the male representative 
of one of the most ancient houses in Scotland, the Urquharts of Cro- 
marty, and derives through female descent from the noble houses of Ross, 
Forbes, Abernethy, Seaforth, and Montrose. Abercrombie in his " Mar- 
tial Achievements of Scotland," relates that an ancestor of the Urquharts 
married Castalda, daughter of Banquo, " Shakespear's Thane of Locka- 
ber," and Lord Hales, in his Annals, mentions that Edward the First, 
during the interregnum, prior to the accession of John Baliol to the 
crown, made out a list of Sheriffs, half of whom were English, and half 
Scotch j and that among the Scotch appears the na^me of William 
Urquhart, heritable Sheriff of Cromarty, The member for Stafford has 
just completed his forty-second year. 

COLONEL CHARLES JOHNKEMEYS TYNTE, returned for Bridgewater, in the 
neighbourhood of which is his father's splendid mansion of Halsewell, for- 
merly represented the Western division of Somersetshire. He resides him- 
self at Cefn Mabley, near Newport in Wales, and acts as a magistrate, 
and deputy lieutenant for Monmouthshire. His father, Colonel Kemeys 
Tynte, possesses estates in the counties of Somerset, Glamorgan, Mon- 
tnouth, Surrey, and Brecon, a considerable portion of which have des- 
cended to him from his great grand uncle Sir Charles Kemeys, Bart, of 
Cefn Mabley, knight of the shire for Monmouth, in the last parliament 
of Queen Anne, and for Glamorgan, in the two succeeding parliaments. 
Of this gentleman and his Jacobite predilections, an amusing anecdote is 
told under " Fragments of Family History,'' in our second volume, 
page 65. Colonel Kemeys Tynte has been declared by a committee 
for privileges of the House of Lords, senior co-heir of the whole blood 
to the Barony of "Wharton ; and also co-heir to the Barony of Grey de 

FRANCIS RICHARD WEST, Esq. the new member for Denbigh, is 
nephew of the late Earl of De la Warr, and derives his influence in the 
borough he represents, through his mother, one of the daughters and 
co-heirs of the late Richard Myddelton, Esq. of Chirk Castle, 

THOMAS CHISHOLME ANSTEY, Esq. M.P. for Youghal, an English 
Chancery barrister, of considerable ability and great depth of know- 
ledge, is son of the Hon. Thomas Anstey, Member of the Legislative 
Council of Van Dieman's Land, and descends in the female line from 
the great Scottish family of Chisholm. He is about thirty years of age, 
and was called to the bar in 1839. 

WILLIAM SEYMOUR BLACKSTONE, Esq. of Castle Priory, whose election 
was secured at Wallingford, despite the myrmidons of the law, is grand- 
son and representative of no less a personage than the great legal lumi- 
nary Sir William Blackstone, the learned commentator on the laws and 
constitution of England. 

Sir EDWARD NORTH BUXTON, Bart., the new member for South Essex, 
is eldest son and heir of the late Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, so distin- 
guished by his philanthropic exertions in the abolition of slavery, and 


son-in-law of Samuel Gurney of Upton, the head of the great city 
house of Overend, Gurney and Co. 

Mr. CHARLES LUSHINGTON the successor to Mr. Leader in West- 
minster, is youngest brother of Dr. Stephen Lushington, the eminent 


A correspondent sends us the following extract from the Register of the 
Parish of Lanmaes, near Cowbridge, in Glamorganshire, and adds that 
''of late years it has attracted the close enquiry of eminent antiquaries." 
Old Parr must yield the palm of longevity to this venerable Welchman : 
" Ivan Yorath buried on Saterdaye the xvii day of July anno doni 
1621, et anno regni regis vicessimo primo, annoque (Stalls circa 180. 
He was aSowdiarin the fight of Bosworthe, and lived atLantwet major, 
and he lived much by fishing." 


RICHARD Lyster, Esq., of Rowtor. Castle (great great granduncle of the 
present Henry Lyster, Esq., of Rowton Castle), represented the county of 
Salop for the wiusual period of thirty years. The great hospitality and uni- 
versal popularity of this gentleman are still very freshly remembered; he 
was a firm supporter of the exiled royal house, and constantly opposed 
the Whig administrations of his day. It is related of him, that his first 
return to parliament was for the borough of Shrewsbury, for which place, 
after a strenuous contest, he was elected by a considerable majority. His 
opponent, however, disputed the return, and endeavoured to destroy the 
majority by disfranchising an extensive suburb, which till that period, 
had always enjoyed the elective franchise, and as he was a supporter of 
the government, the whole Whig party joined in the attempt, and suc- 
ceeded in throwing out the successful candidate. Upon the decision 
being announced in the Commons, Mr. Lyster, feeling very keenly the 
injustice of the proceeding, put on his hat, and, with his back to the 
Speaker, walked down the house, when his manner being remarked, he 
was called to order, and pointed out to the chair, Turning abruptly 
round, he instantly said, " When you learn justice, I will learn manners." 
This drew down upon him the increased wrath of the house, and probably 
he would have been compelled to ask pardon on his knees, or to visit the 
Tower, had not Sir Robert Walpole, who on all occasions knew how to 
throw the grace of good temper over disputes and arguments, exclaimed, 
with a smile, " Let him go, we have served him bad enough already." 
The indignation which this ill-treatment occasioned mainly contributed 
to securing the representation of his native county for the remainder of 
his life. In illustration of the manners of his day, we may add, that on 
his departure from Rowton to take his seat, his tenants annually escorted 
him the first two stages on his journey,while his London tradespeople, duly 
apprised of his approach, with the same punctilio, advanced two stages 
from town to bring him into London. He died in 1776, aged 75. 

VOL. iv. NO. xvii. u 



ONE of the earliest and most interesting cases to he submitted to the 
Committee for Privileges, in the next session of Parliament is the claim 
of George Drummond, Due de Melfort, to the Earldom of Perth. The 
pedigree and heirship of the Due have already been established, and 
there remains now only a question of law as to the operation of an act 
of attainder. Should the decision on this point be favourable to the 
claimant, and the most eminent authorities incline to the opinion that 
it will a Coronet will be restored to the Scottish Peerage, yielding in 
brilliancy to few in the Empire. Traditionally, the Drummonds derive 
their descent from an Hungarian in the Suite of Edgar Atheling, but the 
importance of the family was based on the Royal alliance of the Lady 
Annabella Drummond, daughter of Drummond of Stobhall, with King 
Robert III. From that period the Drummonds held a high position in 
North Britain, and were raised to the peerage in 1487, by the title of Lord 
Drummond, and eventually obtained the Earldom of Perth in 1605. 
Their loyalty to the throne shone at all times conspicuous, but the mo- 
ment that called forth their whole energies and devotion was the great 
contest which preceded the final overthrow of the ancient dynasty of 
Scotland. So long as the conflict was waged on the battle field, the 
Drummonds fought manfully in the cause they had espoused, and at 
length, when the last ruin of the hapless race of Stuart was consummate 
at Culloden, they left their native land, to die, banished and broken 
hearted, in a foreign clime. They had fearlessly set their all upon the 
cast, and they chivalrously submitted to the hazard of the die. 

The immediate ancestor of the claimant was John Drummond, Earl 
of Melfort, second son of James, third Earl of Perth. He retired to St. 
Germains at the Revolution, and was raised by the abdicated James, to 
the Dukedom of Melfort, a title confirmed in France by Louis XIV. 
This nobleman, attainted by the parliament in 1695, for having been seen 
at St. Germains, died at Paris, A.D. 1714, leaving, with other issue, a son 
JOHN, great-grandfather of George Drummond, Due de Melfort, who 
now claims to be Earl of Perth. He was formerly in the British 
service, and held a Captain's commission in the 93rd Highlanders. He 
has been twice married, first, to the Baroness Albertine de Rothberg, 
widow of General Count Rapp, and secondly (within the last month), to 
Mrs. Borrowes, widow of Col. Borrovves, daughter of Thomas B. D. H. 
Sewel, Esq., and grand-daughter of William Beresford, Lord Decies, 
Archbishop of Tuam. 


THE following beautiful inscription appears on the south side of the 
chancel at Cuddesdon church near Oxford : 

Robert! Lowth, Episcopi Oxon, 

Et Mariee Uxoris ejus filia, 
Nata XI mo die Junii, A.D. MDCCL, 

Obiit V to die Julii, A.D. MDCCLXVIII. 

Cara vale ! ingenio prsestans, pietate, pudore, 
Et plusquam natse nomine cara vale, 

Cara Maria vale ! at veniet felicius cevum, 
Quando iterum tecum, sim modo dignus, ero. 

Cara redi ! Iseta turn dicam voce, paternos 
Eja age in amplexus, cara Maria redi ! 


Dearer than daughter, parallel'd by few, 

In genius, goodness, modesty, adieu ! 
Adieu, Maria ! 'till that day more blest, 

When, if deserving, I with thee shall rest : 
Come, then thy Sire will cry, in joyful strain, 

O ! come to thy paternal arms again. 


ON the north chancel wall in the Parish Church of Whickham in the 
county of Durham is a marble monument to the memory of the Rev. 
Dr. Robert Thomlinson, fourth son of Richard Thomlinson Esq. of 
Blencogo Hall, Cumberland, with the following inscription : 


this monument 

lies the body of 

Robert Thomlinson, D. D. 

Prebendary of St. Pauls Lond. 

Rector of this Parish 36 years 

and sometime 

Lecturer of St. Nicholas 

in Newcastle upon Tine. 

He died the 24th of March 1747 

aged 79 years. 

Reader if thou wouldst know 
the character of y* deceased 

learn it 

from the following account 
of his pious munificence 

and charity. 

Dr Thomlinson built and endowed y e charity School for this Parish at his own 
expense, save ^100 left by Mrs. Blakiston for that purpose. He also built a chapel 
at Allonby in Cumb d ., and a school house there, and gave to procure the Queen's 
bounty to y e said Chap. ^200, to the Col. of Matrons at Wigton in Cumb. 
.600, to the charity School there <100, to Queen's College in Oxford WO, to 
Edmund Hall there J?200, and left by his will to y e Societies for propagating y e 
Gospel <500, for promoting Christian Know* ^100, for working Schools in 
Ireland ^100 ; he also bequeathed his library, a large and most valuable collection 
of Books in all kinds of literature, to the Corporation of Newcastle, for public use, 
with a rent charge of ^5 a year for ever as a fund for buying new books. 

Arms : party per pale arg. and vert, three greyhounds in course 
counter changed, impaling azure, a chief indented three martlets arg. 
Crest : a greyhound party per pale as in the Coat. 

The Thomlinson Family of Blencogo in the county of Cumberland 
are descended from Edward Thomlinson, fourth son of Anthony Thom- 
linson, Esq. of Gateside(now Gateshead) in the county of Durham, living 
in 1575, by Katherine his wife, daughter of Sir Ralph Hedworth of Har- 
raton in the same county. 

u 2 



No. 2. 

" Bard of the Fleece, whose skilful genius made 
That work a living landscape, fair and bright ; 
Nor hallowed less with musical delight, 
Than those soft scenes through which thy childhood strayed, 
Those southern tracts of Cambria, ' deep embayed, 
With green hills fenced, with ocean's murmur lull'd,' 
Though hasty Fame hath many a chaplet culled 
For worthless brows, while in the pensive shade 
Of cold neglect she leaves thy head ungraced, 
Yet pure and powerful minds, hearts meek and still, 
A grateful few, shall love thy modest lay, 
Long as the shepherd's bleating flock shall stray, 
O'er naked Snowdon's wild aerial waste ; 
Long as the thrush shall pipe on Grongar Hill ! " 

WORDSWORTH'S Sonnet 17. " To the Poet John Dyer." 

ROBERT DYER being a" solicitor of great capacity and note," purchased 
the estate of Aberglasney of Sir Rice Rudd, Bart., and at that seat the 
poet, his second son, John Dyer, was born in the year 1700. The future 
rhymer went not through his childhood with the usual ease and safety 
of other mortals, having, during that period, three very surprising escapes. 
These are noted in one of his little MS. books, in connexion with other 
misadventures, under the head of " Journals of Escapes," and are thus 
set down : 

" 1704 Fell, when a child, into a tub of scalding wort. 

" 1704. Fell on a case-knife, which wanting a handle, was stuck 
upright in the ground, and which went deep into my throat, but missed 
the windpipe. 

" 1709. Fell into a well. Job*s Well, Carm'thens." 

Through these accidents, however, he came off scatheless, and finished 
his school studies, it seems from Johnson's life, at Westminster, under 
Dr. Friend. And now occurs another "Escape," from which it appears 
he always was of a restless, rambling disposition, full of spirit and deeply 
sensitive, as in after life. 

" 1714. Ran from school and my father, on a box of the ear being 
given me. Strolled for three or four days found at Windsor, &c." 

From school he went to be instructed in his father's profession, the 
law; but, as one might readily suppose, .would have been the case, the 
wearisome monotony of an attorney's office, and long formal deeds, little 
suited an imagination so powerful and glowing as that of Dyer. He had, 
in fact, already begun to cultivate the gentle art of poesy, for as early 
as 1716 (he then being only sixteen years of age), the first version of 
Grongar Hill was composed. It is in a different metre from, and alto- 
gether inferior to, its sylph-like successor, so well known to all English 



readers, but as the fragment Dyer has thought worthy of being copied 
into a book is not without merit, bearing in mind the extreme youth of 
the writer, and is, at all events, curious, I shall here give it. 

" P't of Gron r . Hill as 'twas wrote at first in y" year 1716. 

" And here a silent, quiet walk is made, 

Streight onward running in the green wood shade ; 

How beautiful upon soft mossy beds, 

These living pillars rise with noble heads. 

Unto the thoughtful muse this bowry isle 

Exceeds all those within the towering pile 

Of huge Ephesia swelling to the skies, 

Or ancient Babel of stupendous size, 

Or great St. Peter, pride of modern Rome ; 

Or stately Paul, Augusta's sacred dome ; 

Though there a ground of polished marbles seen, 

And here but vivid turf of gloomy green ; 

The sculptor's art although those pillars wear, 

And these in Nature's rustic work appear ; 

Although their works glare round with fretted gold, 

And here but azure spangles we behold. 

And intermingling leaves that softly twine, 

And roundly branching, from their pillars join 

To form a living roof, and shade the tuneful Nine," &c. 

Utterly disliking the law, and his father soon after dying, Dyer, in 
consequence of his relish for the beautiful, determined to become a 
painter, and settled himself with Mr. Richardson, of Lincoln's-inn-fields, 
who seems to have been considered as a painter of some reputation, and 
whose works are still well known. Among Dyer's papers, I find some 
engraved fac- similes of sketches by the old masters, " E Museo Dm 
Jonath. Richardson." He then became an itinerant painter in his native 
country, South Wales, as he says himself, in a letter to Mr. Duncombe, 
published in " Elegant Extracts." 

But a break now occurs in his life, his visit to Rome, the mistress of 
arts and the ruling divinity in every young painter's bosom, which visit 
seems to have been unaccountably misdated by all his biographers, who 
state that he went after the publication of Grongar Hill, in 1727> and 
returned in 1740, the year the " Ruins of Rome " was published, making 
him come home, revise a long poem, if not write it, study for the church, 
become ordained, and obtain a living, all in the space of a year J I shall 
presently show that he certainly went to Italy in 1724, and returned be- 
fore 1728, at all events ; indeed, as Grongar Hill was published in 1727, 
he most likely returned in 1725 or 1726. I have some prayers, &c., 
entered by him for 1726 and 1727, which were most probably done 
during his leisure in England. 

" 1724. Narrow escape in a storm at Calwater, 1 of Plymouth har- 
bours, in my voyage to Italy. 

" 1725. Narrow escape at Baia, from some banditti who harboured in 
the ruins there. 

" 1728. A surprising escape on horseback, on a very narrow wooden 
bridge (in N. Wales), about 50 feet above rocks and a great torrent of 
water, which frightened the horse, who could not turn for the narrowness 
of the bridge, and entangled his feet in the side rails, &c. 

" Escape at Higham, when the hole was made in a chamber for a pair 
of stairs, &c. 


The above extracts show decisively the true period of this visit to the 
Eternal City, and all the sketches, &c., I have relating to Italy, are in 
the style and writing of this period of Dyer's life. In 1739, he was in 
England, and if a second visit to Rome was undertaken in 1740, his MSS. 
show no traces of it. Indeed, as painting had then ceased to be his 
ruling passion, and he was devoting his energies to church advancement, 
we may well assume that such a visit is a fiction. Viewed, as his biogra- 
phies state, as one undertaken to improve his painting, it most certainly 
never existed. 

In 1724, however, all his ardour concentrated in painting. And we 
cannot conceive his feelings better than by perusing the accompanying 
extracts from his common-place book, consisting of draft letters and 
notes. His home predilections are very feeling : 

" I take the opportunity of a gentleman leaving Rome to write to my 
dear mother, and pleasure myself with the telling her that I shall soon 
return and haste to make myself happy in her company at Grey House. 
The farther I am from you, the more and more sensible am I of the 
tender names of mother and son, and the longer I am absent from you, 
the more you grow in my mind, and the dearer you are there. 

" I have now seen the follies of many distinctions and the greatest 
heights of people, and can sit me down with much ease in a very firm 
opinion that you are happier at Grey House than if you practised all the 
formalities of greatness in courts and palaces. I have gathered, I thank 
God, enough of knowledge in painting to live well in the busiest part of 
the world, if I should happen to prefer it to retirement. 

" Rome is a very beautiful place, and quite different from what we see 
in England, it is not to be told how rich and beautiful the churches are, 
full of fine paintings, gilding, and gold, and precious stones ; the palaces 
too are many and very magnificent, and every here and there appear the 
views of the old beaten temples, palaces, and triumphal arches." 

" Dear Brother, I wrote to you immediately as soon as I arrived in 
Italy, in which were a few lines to my mother and my brothers Tom 
and Ben, don't then in return be negligent, nor think the charge great 
that may be best afforded. 'Tis what I greatly want, something like 
conversation ; the people here are very reserved and deceitful, they sel- 
dom appear together but under disguises and in holy pageantries. 
* * * The Pantheon is the noblest building, perhaps, that 

ever was it is a large concave, not lifted up like S. Pauls or S. Peter's 
(there the concave loses its effect), it appears just as you fancy the sky 
about you, at sea, or in a large plain, in that proportion. I wonder none 
have considered it in this light, and that they prefer the modern cupolas 
to it. Besides this, a vast opening at top lets in but one great light, that 
spreads itself gently like a glory on all around. In short, 'tis not to be 
described, nor did I conceive it till I saw it." 

" I am not a little warmed, and I have a great deal of poetry in my 
head when I scramble among the hills of ruins, or as I pass through the 
arches along the Sacred Way. There is a certain charm that follows 
the sweep of Time, and I can't help thinking the triumphal arches more 
beautiful now than ever they were, there is a certain greenness, with 
many other colours, and a certain disjointedness and moulder among the 


stones, something so pleasing in their weeds and tufts of myrtle, and 
something in the altogether so greatly wild, that mingling with art, and 
blotting out the traces of disagreeable squares and angles, adds certain 
beauties that could not be before imagined, which is the cause of sur- 
prise that no modern building can give." 

" I take great pleasure in visiting the statues and bas-reliefs, it is 
almost my everj day's work, it is a pleasure that grows upon me prodi- 
giously. I don't wonder that N. Poussin was so fond of them, and called 
even Rafael an ass to the ancients. There is so much strength and noble 
muscle in the Hercules, so much grace, greatness, and gentileness in the 
Apollo, so much delicacy and perfect symmetry in the Venus of Medicis, 
and every part of the Laocoon so exquisite, that nothing modern can be 
looked upon after them. Nor do the B. Relievos give me less pleasure, 
whether I examine Trajan's column, the temple of Pallas, the arch of 
Titus, and some part of Constantine's, and especially a Grecian Bas-relief 
over the great door in the Hall of the Villa Borgese, it is a dance of 
nymphs after a wedding, about 6 feet long and 3 broad. By good 
chance I have bought an old cast of it, which is very scarce ; yet it 
grieves me when I think of leaving Rome, as I can't afford to carry with 
me many such fine memoranda of those excellent things. 

" I can't get any views of Tivoli, or any places in Italy. I have been 
to enquire at all the shops. Those of Sylvester we have in England, 
and I believe poor plates, too-, but I design to draw some myself, which 
shall be at your service. I am now about the ruins which are in Rome 
and have drawn a great many, yet, notwithstanding these studious enter- 
tainments, I can't always support myself, and I frequently sink into 
melancholy for want of society, and I think, Dear Sir, of your absence 
with much uneasiness of mind, so that I have many evenings made 
resolutions to return to England, which the next morning has diverted 
on the Capital or the Aventine." 

" I am now in the hurry of a jubilee in the midst of a most unna- 
tural uproar, with the cries of many strange penances around me. And 
I'll assure you a Lord Mayor's show is infinitely preferable to that of 
opening the holy door. It was very silly, for after a great length of 
most wretched pageantry, the Pope reached the door and beat it down 
with 3 strokes of a hammer, 3 good prayers, and the most successful 
force of 3 or 4 lusty fellows, who pulled and hauled within with ropes 
and crows of iron, so fell down the little wall on a carriage of low wheels, 
and they wheeled it away to be broken into 10,000 pieces, to be dispersed 
for pence and halfpence to all the corners of Europe. 

"Tis strange what a havoc their religion makes on their minds, every- 
thing they do is capricious and absurd, all things take a tincture of 
their religion. So reason and the plain principles of nature are neglected 
among them. Their chief employment is visiting churches, and doing 
strange penances: they are now busy in visiting the 4 churches, which 
they are ordered to do 30 times, and every round is near W miles, and 
many of the poor wretches are even starved in the unprofitable labour. 
It is really a dismal sight to see the streets so crowded with troops of 
families, like so many gipsies, some on foot and some on asses, covered 
with dust and sweat, all faint and ghastly. 


" I observe that though musick is here in such great perfection, so 
constantly and universally encouraged, few of the common people have 
any ear, or sing with any spirit.'' , 

These extracts may show the spirit of the man at that time, and truly 
he had not been idle. The sketches of ruins in my possession are most 
voluminous, and are executed in a very peculiar though free style ; a few 
are in red chalk, but by far the majority in pen and ink, slightly tinted 
with Indian ink or umber. This method, though laborious and engrav- 
ing-like, of course has a nice sharpness about the details unattainable by 
the pencil. The views of Tivoli above-mentioned are among them, and 
altogether they form an interesting collection to' the lover of classical 
spots. I am afraid his collections of casts, &c., are all dispersed, the 
only relics in my possession are two books of the 16th century (one 
having very curious engravings of the remains of ancient Rome at that 
time, and each possessing his autograph), together with some original 
studies of Domenichino, " A. Z." Polidoro, Tadeus Sucano, Carlo Ma- 
ratte, and Fran Albani, all mounted. Dyer's portrait was taken in Italy, 
but I reserve mention of it till afterwards. 

Meantime his muse had not slept during his sketching furor. The 
" Ruins of Rome" was most probably now first planned, and a moral 
vision, " Wrote at Ocriculum, in Italy, 1725, altered 1730," in blank 
verse, was written. This is too long for insertion here j the following 
is in the spirit of the last extract given above. 

" Wrote at St. Peter's, 8fC. 

" O gracious Lord, forgive us ; we are all, 
All of us, sinners vile : but these, who build 
Greatness upon their brethren's miseries : 
Who scorn to make thy meek and patient life 
The pattern of their doings ; yet put on 
A day-dress of religion ; hypocrites ! 
Who faiths absurd exact with fiery zeal ; 
And strive to thrall the tongue to their decrees, 
Not win the spirit to the bond of love. 
God of our Fathers, keep us from the ways 
Of these foul hirelings : less Thy glory pure 
Seek they to magnify, than that of men : 
For basest ends the simple they perplex, 

And the guise of learning the hope 

That rises in their hearts from virtuous deeds." 

A poem to Clio was also written from Rome, but she, fictitious or 
real, must stand over for consideration till our next number. 

(To be continued.) 


IT is not a little singular that Englishmen, who are so generalV reproached 
by other nations for their want of sociality, should yet have originated 
Clubs, the very object of which is the promotion of good fellowship. 
Such, however, seems to be the case, the two earliest we have on record 
being one which celebrated its symposia at the Mermaid Tavern in Friday 
Street, and Ben Jonson's Club, which was held at the old Devil Tavern, 
between Temple Gates and Temple Bar. The club at the Mermaid was 
according to all accounts the first established, and owed its origin to Sir 
Walter Raleigh, who had here instituted a meeting of men of wit and 
genius, previously to his engagement with the unfortunate Cobham. This 
society comprised all that the age held most distinguished for learning 
and talent ; numbering amongst its members Shakspeare, Ben Jonson, 
Beaumont and Fletcher, Selden, Sir Walter Raleigh, Donne, Cotton. 
Carew, Martin, and many others, who were inferior to none in reputation 
except those master spirits, and well worthy to sit at the same table, al- 
though at a lower seat. There it was that the " wit- combats " took place 
between Shakspeare and Ben Jonson, that have so often excited the re- 
gretful curiosity of antiquarians, and to which, probably, Beaumont alludes 
with so much affection, in his letter to the old poet, written from the 
country : 

" What things have we seen 

Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have been 

So nimble and so full of subtle flame, 

As if that every one from whom they came 

Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest." 

It is greatly to be regretted, that not a fragment of these meetings has 
come down to us ; a few scattered allusions amongst the old dramatists, 
or their panegyrists, alone attest that such things did exist ; but the wit, and 
the lively fancies, the gay bubbles, as it were, of the most fervid imagina- 
tions, brightened by wine and social emulation, all these have passed 
away with the moment that gave rise to them. What would we now give 
to recall even the slightest portion of those days, and thus enjoy even a 
single hour in the society of such men as Shakspeare and his brother 
dramatists, their conversation varied and tempered by the world- knowledge 
of Raleigh, and the profound learning of Selden ! One man, and one 
only could, by the magic of his pen, have called up the images of such a 
time ; but the Great Unknown the name must never leave him sleeps 
the last sleep in Dryburgh Abbey, and who is there that can hope to suc- 
ceed him ? Nay, we almost regret the having thrown out such a hint, 
lest some of our popular writers Heaven save the mark ! should catch 
at the idea, and having dressed up a set of fantoccini puppets, should 
endeavour to impose them upon the world as the legitimate representatives 
of the Mermaid Tavern. 

Ben Jonson's Club was held in a room of the old Devil Tavern, which, 
probably from this circumstance acquired the distinguishing name of the 
" Apollo." A print of this room, published in 1774, appears to have been 
seen by Gifford, who describes it as "a handsome room, large and lofty, 



and furnished with a gallery for music." Over the door of it was placed 
a bust of the poet, underneath which were inscribed, in golden letters upon 
a black ground, his own verses of welcome to the comer : ^ 

" Welcome all who lead or follow, 

To the Oracle of Apollo ; 

Here he speaks out of his pottle, 

Or the tripos, his tower bottle ; 

All his answers are divine, 

Truth itself doth flow in wine, 

Hang up all the poor hop-drinkers, 

Cries old Sim, the prince of skinkers, 

He the half of life abuses, 

That sits watering with the Muses. 

Those dull girls no good can mean us, 

Wine it is the milk of Venus, 

And the poet's horse accounted ; 

Ply it, and you all are mounted. 

'Tis the true Phebeian liquor 

Cheers the brain, makes wit the quicker, 

Pays all debts, cures all diseases, 

And at once three senses pleases. 

Welcome all who lead or follow, 

To the Oracle of Apollo." 


The " Old Sim," mentioned in the above lines, was Simon Wadloe, 
who at that time kept the Devil Tavern. So at least Whalley informs us, 
and his account is quoted by Gifford without any expression of doubt as 
to the assertion. 

Within the room were hung up the laws of the Club, the celebrated 
Leges Convivales, drawn up by Ben Johnson in the purest and most 
elegant Latin. These we now give, with the old translation of them 
which, however, is neither very faithful, nor very remarkable for poetry. 


Quod felix faustumque convivis in Apolline sit. 

1. Nemo Asymbolus, Nisi Umbra, Hue Venito. 

2. Idiota, Insulsus, Tristis, Turpis, Abesto. 

3. Eruditi, Urbani, Hilares, Honesti, Adsciscuntor. 

4. Nee Lectae Foeminse Repudiantor. 

5. In Apparatu Quod Convivis Corsuget Nares Nil Esto. 

6. Epulae Delectu Potius Quam Sumptu Parantor. 

7. Obsonator Et Coquus Convivarum Guise Periti Sunto. 

8. De Discubitu Non Contenditor. 

9. Ministri A Dapibus, Oculati Et Muti, 
A Poculis, Auriti Et Celeres Sunto. 

10. Vina Puris Fontibus Ministrentor, Aut Vapulet Hospes. 

11. Moderatis Poculis Provocare Sodales Fas Esto. 

12. At Fabulis Magis Quam Vino Velitatio Fiat. 

13. Convivae Nee Muti Nee Loquaces Sunto. 

14. De Seriis Ac Sacris Poti Et Saturi Ne Disserunto, 

15. Fidicen, Nisi Accersitus, Non Venito. 

16. Admisso Risu, Tripudiis, Choreis, Cantu, Salibus, 
Omni Gratiarum Festivitate Sacra Celebrantor, 

17. Joci Sine Felle Sunto. 

18. Insipida Poemata Nulla Recitantor. 

19. Versus Scribere Nullus Cogito. 

20. Argumentationis Totius Strepitus Abesto. 


21. Araatoriis Querelis Ac Suspiriis Liber Angulus Esto. 

22. Lapitharum More Scyphis Pugnare, Vitrea Collidere, 
Fenestras Excutere, Supellectilem Dilacerare, Nefas Esto. 

23. Qui Foras Vel Dicta, Vel Facta Eliminat, Eliminator 

24. Neniinem Reum Pocula Faciunto. 





From the Latin of Ben Jonson, engraven in Marble over the Chimney, in the 

Apollo of the Old Devil Tavern, at Temple Bar, that being his Club-room 

Non verbum reddere verbo. 


1 . As the fund of our pleasure let each pay his shot, 

Except some chance friend whom a member brings in. 

2. Far hence be the sad, the lewd fop, and the sot ; 

For such have the plagues of good company been. 

3. Let the learned and witty, the jovial and gay. 

The generous and honest, compose our free state, 

4. And the more to exalt our delight while we stay, 

Let none be debarr'd from his choice female mate, 

5. Let no scent offensive the chamber infest. 

6. Let fancy, not cost, prepare all our dishes. 

7. Let the caterer mind the taste of each guest, 

And the cook, in his dressing, comply with their wishes. 


8. Let's have no disturbance about taking places, 

To shew your nice breeding, or out of vain pride. 

9. Let the drawers be ready with wine and fresh glasses, 

Let the waiters have eyes, though their tongues must be tied. 

10. Let our wines without mixture or stum be all fine, 

Or call up the master and break his dull noddle, 

1 1 . Let no sober bigot here think it a sin, 

To push on the chirping and moderate bottle. 


12. Let the contests be rather of books than of wine. 

13. Let the company be neither noisy nor mute. 

14. Let none of things serious, much less of divine, 

When belly and head's full, profanely dispute. 


15. Let no saucy fiddler presume to intrude. 

Unless he is sent for to vary our bliss. 

16. With mirth, wit, and dancing, and singing conclude. 

To regale every sense with delight in excess. 


17. Let raillery be without malice or heat, 

1 8. Dull poems to read let none privilege take. 

19. Let no poetaster command or intreat 

Another extempore verses to make. 


20. Let argument bear no unmusical sound, 

Nor jars interpose sacred friendship to grieve. 

21. For generous lovers let a corner be found, 

Where they in soft sighs may their passions relieve. 

x 2 



22. Like the old Lapithites with the goblets to fight, 

Our own 'mongst offences unpardoned will rank, 
Or breaking of windows, or glasses for spite, 
And spoiling the goods for a rake-helly prank, 

23. Whoever shall publish what's said, or what's done, 

Be he banish'd for ever our assembly divine. 

24. Let the freedom we take be perverted by none, 

To make any guilty by drinking good wine." 

From these " Leges Convi vales," we may infer, with sufficient accuracy, 
the nature of clubs in their origin j they were associations for the purposes 
of good fellowship, no doubt, but it was the fellowship of men of learning 
and genius, who met for the interchange of ideas over the social glass. The 
dull man and the ignoramus were to be excluded ; the learned and the 
cheerful were to be invited to join the club ; drunkenness was forbidden, 
yet the members were encouraged to challenge each other to the glass in 
moderation ; the society] of females was permitted, while mirth, singing, 
and pleasant conversation were enjoined ; a snug corner was set apart for 
lovers to sigh in, and think upon their absent mistresses, no bad proof by 
the bye of the gentle temper of him, whom modern ignorance has de- 
signated as rough and surly ; the discussion of sacred and serious things 
were also put under ban, the serious things including, it may be presumed, 
politics ; there was to be no quarrelling with each other, no breaking of glasses 
or windows by way of frolic, nor was any one to plague the company by re- 
citing bad verses, or compelling others to extemporise ; finally, he who 
blabbed what was said or done was to be expelled. In many of these 
matters, as we shall see hereafter, the clubs of our own day have changed, 
and certainly not for the better. 

We have no means of tracing out the time when these celebrated societies 
actually became defunct, nor have we any notice of similar meetings 
the time of Charles II. The probability is, that the great Revolution, which 
closed theatres, put down fairs, and in fact forbade everything in the shape of 
amusement as a sin against Heaven, dispersed also the clubs, the very 
essence of which was elegant enjoyment, and therefore in direct opposition 
to the gloomy spirit that had come over the age. But then in due time fol- 
lowed the Restoration, and the tide, which had ebbed so low, leaving as it 
were, a dry and barren shore, now flowed back again with a violence that 
swept every thing before it, not excepting decency and morals. The 
hatred of the recent changes, and the rage for bringing back the ancient 
order of things, admitted of no exception, even where the thing to be de- 
stroyed was positively good. The cavaliers, on finding themselves once 
again in their old quarters, were much in the condition of a man who should 
return after a lapse of years to the family mansion, from which he had been 
ejected, and who would naturally enough fancy every change that had been 
made in his absence an innovation, to be got rid of as speedily as possible. 
Hence it was to be expected that, among other revivals, so joyous an in- 
stitution as that of Clubs would not be forgotten ; arid, accordingly, the 
traces of them, which were utterly lost to us in the time of the Common- 
wealth, now appear once again. The first, of which any mention is made, 
is the so-called Club of the Kiqgs, and the name gives unmistakeable evi- 
dence of the times which orginated it. This association was formed a little 
after the return of Charles, and did not restrict admission to any quality or 


profession. All who had the good fortune to have inherited the name of 
King were entitled to this privilege, it being considered that such a desig- 
nation was alone sufficient to prove the loyalty of the candidate. 

Another cluh, that arose about the same time, was called the Club of Ugly 
Faces. It was instituted originally at Cambridge, and held its first dinner in 
Clare Hall, which at the outset it was feared would not be large enough to 
contain so numerous a body as would be fairly entitled to claim admission. 
The result, however, disappoint